Raising Jack Sparrow
by Umeko
Summary: How does a single parent go about raising a son? Especially if that parent is a pirate captain by the name of Teague...
1. Meet Jack Sparrow, Captain Teague

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Meet Jack Sparrow, Captain Teague**

Captain Teague knew he was in for a bad day when he awoke to the sound of someone trying to knock his front door in with a battering ram. Shaking sleep from his eyes, he recalled that he was not in that shack that sufficed as his abode on St Martinique nor that townhouse in Bristol from his boyhood with the blacksmith next door hammering on his anvil all hours of the night. Instead, the gentle sway of his hammock and the familiar feel of the gritty boards under his bare feet informed him that he was at sea, which compounded the question of who would be tearing down his cabin door.

"Open up, ya lily-livered coward! Quit cowering under yer bedclothes and face yer responsibilities as a man!" Teague grabbed his breeches and pulled them on. His nightshirt was a bit dirty with stains down the front but there was no time for a fresh shirt. Not if he were facing imminent attack from unfriendly visitors.

One good hard thump finally did it for the poor cabin door and the battered oak gave. Teague found himself face to face with his caller. The caller's frame all but blocked the sunlight from the doorway. Teague immediately feared the worst for his hapless crew.

"Grace O'Nelly?" Teague gasped. A meaty hand grabbed him by the collar.

"That's Captain Grace O'Nelly to ya, scumbag!" the grey-haired female pirate growled and showed a mouthful of shark-like teeth. Teague honestly expected her to rip open his throat with those teeth. Instead, he was unceremoniously dragged out onto the deck of the _Misty Lady_. Alongside the _Misty Lady_ was another ship, Grace O'Nelly's flagship, _Bloody Sunday._ At the rails was his beloved Jenny Wren with her soulful dark eyes and raven tresses. She was wearing a bright red dress which flattered her figure immensely.

"Oh, Eddie! Ma, please!" she screamed and fluttered about like a trapped bird. She was a petite thing who looked like it would only take the barest breath of wind to knock her clean off the ship. That would have happened on several occasions if she had not been restrained by her burly brothers. Teague always thought that Grace O'Nelly having the delicate Jenny Wren as her offspring was like an elephant bearing a fawn. Jenny Wren had the looks and manners of a highborn lady. It was difficult to believe she was kin to the dreaded Irish pirate Grace O'Nelly, the Terror of the North Sea.

"Sorry, lass. A ma's gotta do what a ma's gotta do…" Grace raised her cutlass high. Great, his beloved's mother was going to gut him like a fish in front of her. He braced himself for the blow, which never came. Instead, Grace drove her cutlass into a small rum keg, obligingly held up by two of her crewmen, broaching it.

"Drink up, Teague! Put some colour in those cheeks of yers. Santa Maria! I need a drink too," Grace declared as she filled a tankard and thrust the tankard at Teague. Teague shakily took the tankard and allowed himself a sip. He glanced about the deck, trying to make sense of a most unusual situation. Thus far, apart from poor Jamie nursing a bleeding nose and Mickey sporting a black eye, there was little sign of a violent boarding. Grace's crew must have worked quickly and stealthily, or they could have approached them under friendly pretences.

The crew now mingled openly with the boarders, apparently at ease. O'Nelly's crew consisted of her much-extended clan, including a number of females of varying ages. Teague caught sight from the corner of his eye, one of his crew slipping behind one of the cannons with one of Grace's crew, a lithe nymph clad in a tight red corset. A large nanny goat was butting Teague's peg-legged coxswain. He sat down on a crate of fruit while his caller took a seat on a keg.

"Ya haf ta deal wi' yer responsibilities, my man," Grace growled and drew Teague's attention back to the matter at hand. "Bridie! Where's de bundle?" she hollered.

A pirate woman wearing a mob cap stepped forward with a cloth bundle that mewled weakly. Grace took the bundle and balanced it in the crook of her large arm while she took a gulp of rum from her tankard.

"You put my wee Jenny in da family way and we voted to return your pup to you. We even brought the goat over," Grace took a swallow of rum and belched. _His child?_ Teague blinked and stared at the bundle. A few too many drinks at _Mother Carey's_ found him and Jenny between the sheets but…

"In case ye're thinking of shirking, Edward Teague, please note that ya are the only man fool enough to hop in da sack with de fiancée of Captain Edward Teach. Don't worry yer empty head about Teach. I ordered him off once news came to us about him and dat Spanish hussy… Only the best for my wee Jenny," Grace beamed proudly. "As much as we would like to keep Jenny's wee laddie on board, we haf three other wee ones to look out fer and a pirate ship's no place for a wee baby."

"But the _Misty Lady's_ a pirate ship too!" Teague protested.

Grace laughed. "A joke! Ya don't haf enough guns to justify dis tub as a pirate ship. No self-respecting pirate will sail with Quaker guns!"

"We're working on that…" Teague gritted his teeth. The Misty Lady had only two functioning cannons for now, having lost the rest in a bad storm. They had a few old logs painted as cannons to dissuade any pirates from picking on them for now. They would need to surprise some ship and steal their guns, soon.

"The mite's name is Jack Sparrow," Grace announced.

"What kind of name is that?" Teague protested and spluttered on his rum.

"A proper name for a pirate. Ye will probably call him James Edward Teague III or summat silly so my lads took the liberty of baptising him in a barrel of rum. So his name's Jack Sparrow and don't ya forget." Grace shrugged. "Hold him for me, will ya?" Grace belched and ordered Teague's cook to take the baby from her.

The sea cook obligingly took the baby from her. The rest of the _Misty Lady's_ crew gathered round for a peek at the new arrival.

"Lord! That's the ugliest baby I ever saw!" the sea cook said and almost dropped the infant. Grace O'Nelly's eyes turned icy and spun around with amazing speed given her bulk. There was a dry crack of a pistol and the poor cook had gone to meet his Maker. The coxswain caught hold of the bundle as it flew into the air. The poor man then gasped and shouted. "It's a hairy imp from Hell!" He was soon sitting in a pool of blood with Captain Grace's cutlass thrust in his chest to the hilt.

"Teague! Can't ya teach yer men to be polite?" The annoyed grandmother held the bundle with one hand and thrust it at the father. "They're hurting poor Jackie's feelings!"

Teague stole a peek at his offspring as he took the baby from Grace and almost died. No human baby could possibly have a face like that. Grace cocked her pistol and glared at the hapless captain. The bundle chattered and squealed. Hairy paws reached out to grab Teague's beard. _His son was a monkey!_ "Er, this may take a bit of getting used to… but I…"

"Ma! You took the wrong bundle. Jack's here!" a voice called out. Jenny Wren was climbing onto the deck of the _Misty Lady_ with her skirts and petticoats all billowing about her. She was carrying a gurgling infant of six months or so in a crude sailcloth sling across her chest. She handed the infant to Teague. "Eddie, darling, meet our little boy. Wee Jackie looks just like you. He even has that heart-shaped birthmark on his bottom like yours…" Jenny gave the proud father a kiss on the cheek as Teague held up his squealing son.

"Now, now… this is awkward…" Grace muttered and put away her pistol. The baby monkey scampered over to one of Grace's crewmates and was promptly bagged in a sack. "This one's dinner, Sis!" he crowed.

"Dearest mother, we had ourselves a little vote while you were off the _Bloody Sunday_," Jenny beamed and walked up to her mother. She nonchalantly handed the piece of parchment over to her mother amidst horrified gasps. It was the dreaded black spot.

The deposed captain Grace spluttered. "What's the meaning of this outrage?" Every crewmate of the _Bloody Sunday_ on board Teague's ship now closed ranks behind Jenny Wren, their newly-elected captain, including the red-corseted strumpet who had been romping behind the cannon with One-Eye Joey earlier.

"We could do this the easy way or the hard way, mother dearest…" Jenny purred sweetly. She had a small narrow dagger in her hand, pointed at her mother's ribs. "We do need someone to help Eddie with the baby, don't we?"

"Santa Maria! Ye are not leaving me on a Quaker boat to babysit your pup, are ye? I spent a whole day and night in labour birthing ya! Ingrate!" the outraged ex-captain turned to the rest of her mutinous kin. "Paddy! Remember the time I sat up with ya all night when ya took ill? Johnny, ye always was my favourite! Connie, say something for yer mother, for Pete's sake…"

"I was yer favourite whipping boy. I'm deaf in one ear 'cos of yer always slapping me!" Johnny shouted.

"I was ill then because ya poisoned me with rotten biscuits!" Paddy retorted. "And in case it slipped yer attention, Connie's no longer wi' us because ye decided to teach him to swim by kicking him over the side in shark-infested waters last week after too much rum…"

"And ye tried to force me to wed that blackguard Teach… so I guess we are all even now," Jenny said with a cold smile as she snatched the feathered tricone off the ex-captain's head. She turned to Teague with a winsome smile. "Eddie, does this hat make me look fat?"

"No, luvvie…" Teague replied as he held his son close. He decided he did not understand women and he wanted no part of whatever squabble triggered the most unexpected mutiny of the Irish pirate queen's crew. "Get along well with mama, Eddie dear," Jenny kissed the bewildered captain on the lips, then her son on the forehead. "Be a good little pirate, wee Jack… Mama's going after some Spanish galleons now…"

With a swish of her red skirts, Captain Jenny Wren was over the side and climbing down to her jolly boat with her crew. "Fare ye well, Eddie!" she blew some kisses at both father and son. A meaty hand tapped Teague on the shoulder.

"Er, Teague, do ye happen to be needing a cook, considering I just shot yer last one?" Grace O'Nelly said with an oddly meek tone. She had the nanny goat's rope in the other hand. "Would ye also have somewhere below we could put Bessie?"

"This way, Granny…" the beleaguered pirate captain decided he better make the best of a bad situation and show their new cook to the galley.

"Would ya happen to have rats in the hold, captain?"

"Why?"

"I need rats for my famous rat stew, savvy?" Teague felt his stomach twist into a knot at the cook's words. This arrangement was seriously going to take some time to get used to.

**Author's Notes:**

This is inspired by observing the interactions between some members of my family, especially those of a mother-son in law nature.

Quaker guns – fake guns made from large logs painted to look like functional cannons. Used throughout history and even during WWII to mislead the enemy.


	2. Baby Duties

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Baby Duties**

"Nicholas Edward Teague? That's yer full Christian name?" Granny Grace snorted so hard that rum sprayed across the table in the Captain's cabin. "Santa Maria, yer folks must have hated ye. Never thought Jenny would take up with someone with that name… Are yer folks Quakers or summat?" She was reading the flyleaf of the battered old bible Teague's father had given him when he first took to his sea as a cabin boy. The elder Teague was in his grave by the time his son returned ashore and Teague kept the bible with him since. It was handy for dealing with the funerals he sometimes had to arrange at sea.

"Actually, I was named after my grandfather and uncle," Teague mopped up the spilled rum with a rag. He never thought he would end up with the one-time Irish Sea pirate lord as his sea cook. The new sea cook did make good stew, but it was better not to inquire about the ingredients that went into her stew.

Jack cooed and sucked on one of his father's beard-braids. His grandmother had just brought Teague a wineskin of goat's milk from Bessie for the baby. Truth be told, Jack was proving to be an easy-going mite. Then something foul assailed the pirates' noses.

"What's that reek?" Teague sniffed the air. _Has there been a leak in the bilges or something? _

"Well, don't look at me. I bathed last week," Granny Grace replied. "I think it's coming from Jackie boy…"

Jack had scrunched up his little face was starting to holler. "What's wrong with 'im?" the father asked.

"Diaper change, Nicky Eddie Teague…" Granny Grace laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "And ye're doing it since ye're holdin' him." There was no arguing with Granny Grace. She was as stout as an ox and towered even over Captain Teague. Her fists hit like a sledgehammer as evidence by the hapless seaman whose skull she cracked open with a left hook after he complained to the captain that having a woman on board was bad luck. It was bad luck for the poor man alright.

With resignation, Teague lifted his son off his lap and onto the table. Clumsily, he undressed the baby. "Ye need a new diaper, Capt'n," Granny Grace reminded him. She chucked the soiled diaper out of the cabin window. Sailcloth was plentiful on the _Misty Lady_. Teague wiped his son's bottom and fumbled trying to fasten the piece of linen diaper about the squirming infant. Finally satisfied with his handiwork, the proud father lifted his son up and the diaper fell off, leaving Jack bare-bottomed.

Jack giggled and peed, right over his father's shirt.

"Nice try, Capt'n," Granny Grace said and took the child from the captain. One simply could not trust a man to know the finer points of putting a diaper on.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later over dinner, Granny Grace announced that the goat had stopped giving milk and that she had broken Bessie's neck and used her carcass for stew.<p>

"Better put to port, Capt'n. We need a new goat," the cook said matter-of-factly.

"To port? We're in the middle of the Indian Ocean! It'll take us two days at least to see land!" Teague leapt to his feet_. What would Jackie do for a meal in those two days?_ He was just starting on solid food – sea biscuits softened in water, but he still needed his milk. Teague glared at the cook.

"Don't look at me, I've no milk in my breasts," Granny Grace said dryly. Teague glanced helplessly at his son. It was going to be a long night…

* * *

><p>True to form, Jackie boy started wailing for his milk when feeding time came round. Teague softened biscuits in water and tried to feed it to him but the tot spat the pulp out.<p>

"Any ideas?" the desperate captain asked his crew. The crew had been roused by the baby's screams. The pirates murmured among themselves. No one was getting any sleep at this rate and they were traveling, it would be a week before they reach a proper port where they could replace their goat.

"Allow me!" Granny Grace thundered onto the deck with a wineskin in hand. She took the baby and put the mouthpiece of her wineskin into his mouth. Jack spluttered first, then licked his lips. He seized the wineskin from his grandmother and sucked on it greedily. Finally contended, the baby dozed off.

"I thought we're outta milk…" Teague said.

"Yes, we are," the cook agreed. Teague took the half-drained wineskin from the sleeping Jack and sniffed at it. It smelled like…

"Rum? Grace O'Nelly… did you just give Jackie boy rum?" Teague frowned. _Wasn't Jack too young for rum? _

"Think of it as a nightcap. Come on, capt'n, rum has all the essential nutrients a growing tot needs. I raised Jenny and my lads on that stuff too. And ale when rum is in short supply," Grace chuckled. She took the wineskin from a stunned Teague finished off the remaining rum.

They finally found a nanny goat in Ceylon. However, Jackie continued receiving his nightly dose of rum in his milk, courtesy of his doting grandmother.

* * *

><p>The ring of steel on steel rang out and smoke from the firearms clouded the battlefield of the decks of the <em>Misty Lady<em>. Grace smashed her fist into a marine's face, spilling both teeth and blood. As a rule, Captain Teague preferred to avoid fights whenever possible, especially now that he had an infant on board. Sadly, the men of the _HMS Alice_ had no such qualms. Still, his crew had handled themselves well despite being heavily outgunned. Grace had suggested they sail right up to their attacker to force a boarding and hand-to-hand combat when Teague's instinct was to put as much distance between him and the marines. Now with his sails in tatters, he had no choice.

Grace swore and seized a marine off the limp form of a crewman and literally snapped the hapless man's neck in her hand. She slashed his chest open with her cutlass for good measure. The old pirate was handy in a fight. Now she cut open the throat of a navy officer who would have shot the captain.

"Teague, you damned Bible-thumping Quaker, go feed Jackie!" Grace O'Nelly shrieked as her cutlass cleaved another enemy near in half. "You go feed him!" Teague yelled. "I'm a bit tied up now!" He kicked another would-be boarder into the salty blue.

The captain cursed his luck that his ship had come under attack at Jackie boy's feeding time. At least Jackie was safe within the captain's cabin. The ship's carpenter had the cabin door fixed and a new lock installed. Captain Teague had locked his son in when an imminent boarding became apparent. A battle in full-swing was no place for a lad who was still in diapers.

In the cabin, young Jack Sparrow lay with his face turned to the glass windows looking out on the deck. The sounds of battle were all but drowned out by his crying.

Finally, Teague could stand no more. He needed to feed his son. And there will be no feeding unless he and his men fought off their enemies. "Board! Prepare to board! We're going to make those marines regret they ever crossed swords with us!" A cheer rippled through the crew of the _Misty Lady_. Now the shoe will be on the other foot.

"We'll make a decent pirate out of you yet, Teague," Grace grinned devilishly.

"Send the scallywags to Davy Jone's locker, me hearties! Take no prisoners!" the old pirate lady shouted a fierce war cry as they boarded the navy ship. Within the hour, the decks of the Alice were sloshing with the blood of her slain and dying crew. Teague ordered his first mate to salvage whatever cargo from the naval ship they could use before scuttling her. They were too few in manpower and too far from land to keep the vessel. Still dripping the blood of his enemies and a bit of his from a gash on his cheek, he walked towards his cabin. Jack had quietened to whimpers by now.

"Here, Captain," Grace lobbed the wineskin of milk to him with a grin. The captain took out the key he wore around his neck and unlocked the cabin door.

"There, there, Jackie boy… Da's here…" Teague scooped up the baby and put the wineskin to Jack's mouth. With a contented sigh, Jack sucked on the mouthpiece greedily. Ignoring his bloodied clothes, Teague sat down on his chair and cradled his little son. He had Grace add a bit of rum to the milk. Jackie deserved that after the trauma he went through thanks to the bloody navy.

"Captain, we 'ave two, Nathaniel and Harris, dead, Sam the Moor may not make it till morn'g," his chief mate reported. "Doc's taking Wolf Hans' leg off now. Other than that, all the usual cuts and scrapes."

"Thank you, Tom," Teague replied. "Please see to Harris' and Nat's funerals… you know where I keep the bible…" the captain rested Jackie against his shoulder and burped him. Honest Tom was educated enough to read the necessary psalms for the funeral.

"Captain, the wee one sicked up on you."

"Think it makes a difference?" Teague asked dryly. Tom shook his head. The captain was a sight. His clothes were still bloodied from the fighting and now he had regurgitated milk running down his back.

"I see 'bout the funeral…" Honest Tom took his leave.

**Author's Notes:**

Teague is a great dad so far, at least he tries.


	3. First Steps

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

A short bit on Captain Jack Sparrow's walk…

**First Steps**

"Why is it that our captain Jack Sparrow walks as if he were drunk all the time?" the newly elected pirate queen Elizabeth Swann asked Mister Gibbs as they observed the one and only Captain Jack Sparrow swagger along the pier of the pirate hideout Shipwreck Island partaking in the myriad preparations before the big sea battle. The pirate did have an unmistakable gait which could not possibly be put down to sea legs alone. "Possibly because de capt'n is drunk all de time," Mister Gibbs remarked. He was certain his missing stash of rum had something to do with Jack's current swagger.

"No, it is because he is a faggot…" Barbossa could not resist a snipe at his rival for the command of the Black Pearl. "What does firewood gotta do with Jack Sparrow?" Ragetti asked. "He doesn't mean that kinda faggot…" Pintel exclaimed. He accidently dropped the cannonball he was holding over the side. The cannonball crashed with devastating effect through the deck of a Turkish galley, whose decks were much lower than the Black Pearl's.

The outraged Turkish captain heartily cursed Barbossa for his crew's mishap. Packed as they were in the confines of Shipwreck Bay, they had to watch out for other pirates lest they end up running over the smaller vessels. Pintel and Ragetti continued arguing among themselves while loose cannonballs started rolling around the deck unheeded.

"Will ye two morons cut it out?" Barbossa snapped at the quarrelsome pair. "Start loading those cannonballs before I keelhaul ya!"

Captain Teague chuckled and tuned his guitar. He knew the real reason why Jack Sparrow walks the way he does…

* * *

><p>"Happy Birthday tooo yoouuu…" Granny Grace crooned. The <em>Misty Lady's<em> crew winced at their sea cook's off-key singing. The captain dandled his young son on his lap. Jack has learnt to sit up by himself and was babbling baby-talk non-stop. He seemed to understand some words like 'milk' or 'Da', but it might just be wishful thinking on the part of the proud father. For the lad's first birthday, the sea cook had baked a cake from cornmeal and dried fruits. The ceramic plate cracked when she dropped the rock-like cake onto it. Teague honestly wondered if the lump was even edible.

"Cut the cake for wee Jackie, Captain," the sea cook urged and handed the knife, a machete, to Teague. The captain slammed the blade onto the cake with little effect.

Little Jack picked up a piece of the cake which had chipped off the main block. He placed the piece into his mouth, scrunched up his face in disgust and spat it out, confirming everyone's suspicions about the cake. Faced with a choice of food poisoning and a stomach upset and riling Granny Grace O'Nelly, it was like being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. They were about to earn a reprieve.

"Captain!" Honest Tom came running in suddenly. He had been among the lucky few assigned to deck duty while the majority of the crew celebrated Jack's first birthday below decks.

"What's it?" Teague asked. The first mate was chalky pale. The captain placed his son on the floorboards. Jack immediately tried to stand up with the help of a stool. He had been trying to stand with some success. He would hover there for a second or two before falling on his behind. So Teague paid him no heed when Jack managed to pull himself up and balance on the balls of his tiny feet,

"Storm squall, Captain. Heading our way fast. Looks like a bloody hurricane!" Honest Tom replied.

"All men on deck! To yer stations!" the captain shouted. They were in open waters and far from any coves where they could shelter. If they could not outsail it, they would have to ride it out. Teague hurried on deck, leaving his son unattended in the cabin.

It was a big one, the largest storm squall Teague had ever seen in his many years at sea. Honest Tom had not lied nor exaggerated the seriousness of their situation.

"Lower the top-sails! Fasten the cannons tight!" Men scrambled to obey their captain's commands. They had to work together in order to survive.

The storm was upon them with the fury of a hurricane. The _Misty Lady _was lashed by both rain and wind and battered by waves. The deck was constantly washed by seawater and several cannons broke free of their moorings despite being held in place with chains. Sails tore and rigging snapped under the relentless pounding. Thunder roared and lightning flashed all round as the hapless vessel was caught in the full fury of the hurricane.

Abandoned inside the captain's cabin, young Jack staggered to his feet for the umpteenth time. Most of the furniture in the cabin was bolted firmly to the floor. Jack pulled himself up with the help of his stool. He could hear his da shouting outside. Even his grandmother had gone on deck to help. He wanted to be outside with his da. The cabin door had burst open with the violent lurching of the ship and beckoned to the boy. With the floor under his unsteady feet pitching and lurching like a bucking bronco, Jack took his first baby steps.

_If at first you don't succeed, try, try and try again…_ Jack determinedly set his mind to walking on his own two feet out on deck. Crawling on all fours was a lot faster, but da and the others did not crawl. They walked on their feet. Jack figured that if he were to be as big and strong as his da, he better start walking too. Climbing up the three stairs to the deck proper was a tad tricky though but Jack decided he was not going to crawl.

The storm finally broke and Captain Teague was able to take stock of the damage wrought. It was sheer good luck that there were no men lost or severely injured in the chaos. There were however, bruises, minor cuts and strained muscles.

"Hey, Teague, I pulled a muscle catching that cannon. Could ye go git de ointment ye were using for old Morsie de last time?" Granny Grace hollered as she massaged her massive shoulder.

"Sure…" Teague knew better than to argue with Grace O'Nelly. The weary captain stepped into his cabin and gaped at the sight before him. "Hey, Granny Grace, come look at this!"

Wee Jack was staggering and swaying clumsily but definitely walking. The gait was highly unsteady but not in the manner of a young child. It was the worst case of sea legs ever witnessed by the captain and his crew. However, Teague had to admit that Jackie boy had a certain grace in his movements as he swayed and rocked in harmony with the rolling of the ship. Jack swayed as he walked up to his da and hugged Teague's leg.

"Well done, Jackie boy. Ye have taken yer first steps towards being a full pirate…" Captain Teague hugged his son with pride. "Now ye have the sea legs, we'll hafta to see about those land legs…"

That odd gait remained with Jack even ashore and through his growing years. In adulthood, it was gradually refined to that cocky swagger. By now, it was the patented Jack Sparrow walk, unique to the one and only Jack Sparrow.

* * *

><p>"It comes from taking your first steps on a pitching ship in the midst of the worst storm at sea in a century," Captain Teague said as he walked off to his hammock. He left the crew and other pirates wondering at his words. He was way too old for a full sea battle and needed to catch some shut-eye before the big event.<p> 


	4. First Word

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Ah, the delight of a parent on his kid's first words… well, almost. A short piece.

**First Word**

Captain Teague gazed on his son as Jack happily babbled away. "Say da, Jackie…" he coaxed.

"No, Jackie, say ma…" Jenny kissed Jack on the nose. Little Jack clapped his hands in glee.

They had pulled in at St Martinique's harbour to load on supplies and spend their swag. Meeting the crew of the _Bloody Sunday_ in port was an unexpected bonus with the usual rough-housing between Grace O'Nelly and her former crew. Jenny Wren, the new captain of the _Bloody Sunday_, had come on board the _Misty Lady_ to visit her little boy while her mother was doing some serious catching-up in terms of fisticuffs with her sons, grandsons and other assorted kin and kith in _Mother Carey's_. When they left, two of Jenny's brothers had been tossed out of the upstairs windows and a nephew was being dunked in a rain-barrel by some annoyed sailor. Teague's crew fared slightly better with the lads rushing old Joe Peewee to the doc after getting stabbed in the butt by an irate wench. Slick Milton and company had jumped ship after having their fill of Granny Grace's cooking and Teague knew he would need to recruit new men before he could take to sea. In all, it was a typical night out in town.

Little Jack had been wary of the flamboyantly-dressed pirate at first. The toddler hardly recalled how his mother looked like since it was a year since they last saw each other. Jenny Wren had stitched silver coins into her skirt and they twinkled and jingled like bells when she walked. A pearl-studded vest of boiled leather was cut low enough to reveal her cleavage. Jenny had also set gemstones on her shoe buckles. An emerald and a ruby twinkled from under her voluminous skirts. The _Bloody Sunday_ had enjoyed a successful run pillaging Spanish treasure ships. She soon won Jackie over with a shiny medallion of St Isabelle, which she claimed to have plucked out of the dead fingers of a Spanish captain.

"Goo-goo… Ga-ga…" Jack babbled as he tottered about the cabin. Honest Tom the babysitter had gone out on deck to allow the parents some privacy with the tot while he saw to his wounds. Jack had an unfortunate habit of biting his babysitters ever since he started teething. Granny Grace had made a leather teething ring but Jack still preferred making his babysitters yelp. Everyone hoped Jack would break his habit of biting folks soon now that almost all his teeth had grown in.

"Say da, Jackie boy…"

"No, say ma… You can do it my sweetie."

Jack stared at his parents through his wide eyes. "Goo-goo baba gaga…"

"Da, Jack, Da…" Captain Teague urged.

"Ma, Jack, Ma…" Captain Jenny Wren urged. "Say mama for mama, sweetie."

"Bababa booboo googoo poo!" Jack babbled and clapped his hands. Then he opened his mouth and yawned.

"Think we better get Jackie to bed, Jenny…" Captain Teague relented. It was late.

"Aw, I was hoping to hear him call me ma before we leave on the morning-tide…" Jenny Wren pouted prettily. Their eyes met over their son's head. _Put Jackie to bed, then go onto the gun-deck for some catching-up of their own…_ Jenny stealthily brushed her shin against Teague's and gave an impish wink. Teague slipped his arm around that narrow waist. _Perhaps they could get a little girl this time. Or a little brother to keep Jackie company…_

"Bwawah baba bwoo?" Jack looked up at his parents in innocent bewilderment. He tottered over to his da and clutched his leg. He yawned again. Teague lifted his son into his arms.

"Time for bed, Jackie," Jenny said as she stroked her son's hair. She almost wished that Jackie was on her ship instead of with Teague, but…

CRASH! Granny Grace kicked in the cabin door again, the third time that month. Teague groaned. That door would need to be fixed, _again._ And he needed to hire a new carpenter after the last one died from a serious reaction to their cook's weevil cookies.

"Hey, Captain, it is time for Jackie to get his nightly feed!" the grandmother held the wineskin aloft.

Little Jack's eyes lit up, reached out with his chubby arms and opened his little mouth.

"Rum!"

Both parents gaped at the first intelligent word out of their son's lips.

"What did ye say, Jackie boy?" Teague asked slowly.

"RUM!" Jackie hollered and reached out for his nightcap. "Rum, rum, rum, rum!"

"Smart laddie, ain't he?" Granny Grace chuckled. "Much smarter than saying ma or da…"

Jenny let loose a scream of frustration and stormed out of the cabin. Oblivious to his mother's wrath, Jack took the wineskin from his grandmother and settled down for his nightly rum-laced milk before bed. Teague only shrugged and lowered his son onto the bed. Jenny was screaming something on the deck about ingrate offspring and drunkard parents. But Teague could not care more even if she were scuttling his ship.

"So that's yer first word, Jack? Proper word for a pirate, innit?" Teague ruffled his son's dark hair. _Rum._ He felt he could use some himself.

**Author's Notes:**

Little Jackie wants his rum, how sweet.


	5. To Sink or Swim

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

**To Sink or Swim**

"It ain't natural… if God meant us to be swimming like otters, we'd 'ave fins or webbed feet…" Mister Gibbs remarked as Captain Jack Sparrow dove off the plank and plunged into the ocean with a resounding splash. "Whoohoo! That's fun!" Jack yelled as he surfaced. He paddled towards the ship.

"Jack, this use of a plank is most unpiratey!" Elizabeth protested. "Witty Jack swims like fish, don't he?" Tia Dalma only laughed along with Jack as she tossed him the rope ladder over the side. Jack hauled himself on deck and shook his braids like a wet dog, drenching everyone within reach. "Nothin' like a swim to cool off!"

"Next time, we tie 'im up first, then make 'im walk the plank," Captain Barbossa suggested as he shook seawater off his precious hat. It was a humid and hot day. And the sea was too tempting. Before anymore could be said, Jack leapt over the side and dove into the salty blue yet again.

* * *

><p>Many, many years ago…<p>

"It isn't natural…" Honest Tom muttered under his breath. The crew gathered at the beach watching Grace O'Nelly paddling in the sea. They had put in at a tropical cove to do some repairs and take on fresh water. The calm, cool waters of the lagoon proved irresistible to the sea cook. Honest Tom could not swim and believed that knowing to swim would only prolong the agony of drowning. He opted instead for the medallion of St Andrew he wore about his neck to preserve him from a watery demise.

Captain Teague had waded out into the waters until he was knee-deep in it. Teague was an average swimmer, in that he could keep his head out of water long enough with the aid of flotsam to be rescued by his shipmates. One would never expect Grace O'Nelly to be a swimmer, but in water, she was like a marine creature. Yes, she was as agile as a whale. Teague recalled her mentioning during one drinking session that her old grandpapa, Captain Seamus 'Shipwreck' had an unfortunate perchance for running aground on shoals and reefs. This ensured that all his offspring and crew learnt to swim really fast or go down with their vessel.

"Let wee Jackie git in de water, Teague…" Grace shouted.

"Isn't he too wee for dat?" Teague protested. He gingerly lowered his precious cargo into the water. Little Jack squealed with joy and kicked, sending up sprays of seawater. He was clad in an oversized oilskin vest and reminded Teague of some young creature of the wild, ready to be snapped up by some predator. Little Jack shouted and pointed at a pod of seals frolicking off a rocky outcrop nearby.

"Drop 'im in proper, Teague."

Teague glanced at his son. Jack seemed to be enjoying the cool water, but he was so small and… His son was still struggling with the land legs and just managed to say 'da' about two weeks ago. The captain took a deep breath and stuck out his neck figuratively.

"No. He is too young."

The watching crew winced as Grace O'Nelly smacked Teague across the face with a stingray. She had snatched the unwary critter from the sandy seabed.

"Nicholas Edward Teague! Drop Jack in the water! He can swim! He's young nuff to remember how."

"Young nuff?"

"Babies know how tae swim. They come inta dis world wet, dun they? How old were ye when ye learnt to paddle?"

"Seven…" Teague replied warily. He knew little about childbirth, not having attending any births personally. The sea cook was still holding that flapping stingray in her meaty hands. The deadly barb had been snapped off by the gnarled pirate woman and stuck into her grey bun as a hair pin.

"Dat's why ye swim like a stuck hog. We start them young so they's swim like fish," Grace said proudly. "See, Jackie's paddlin' like he's born to it."

Jack splashed and spluttered where Teague had dropped him when Grace slapped him with the stingray. His oilskin garment acted as a float and kept him bobbing like a cork. The tide was coming in quickly and Teague was up to his waist. The tide was pulling on Jack. The toddler was bobbing among the curious seals now. The seals barked and peered curiously at the stranger among them. Teague grumbled and dove for his son. He was not going to let Jackie-boy be washed out to sea.

Before Teague could reach Jack, there was a tremendous roiling and splashing of the sea.

It was then that the fearsome predator of the reef, the tiger shark launched its attack. A triangular fin cut through the surf like a harbinger of death, closing in on the obliviously paddling youngster.

"JACKIE!" Grace hollered and lurched through the rising tide with her makeshift weapon aloft. The stingray's barb plunged into the shark's side as Grace cursed. Fish and pirate thrashed and fought.

To Teague's horror, the shark lifted its ugly head and shook what seemed to be the tattered remains of his son's oilskin garment in its mouth. The sea about the monstrous fish was turning red.

"Unhand me son, ye beast!" the desperate father launched into the fray with his bare hands. Ignoring the razor-sharp teeth, he forced the deadly jaws as far open as he could. Jack's grandmother had broken her makeshift dagger in the shark's body. She was now wrestling the shark out of water and towards the beach to stop it from fleeing for open water.

They had to save Jack. The crew had waded out to assist their captain and cook. Out of its element, the shark flopped about on the sand. Honest Tom smashed an oar onto the beast's head with little effect. The other crewmen started stabbing the beast.

"Careful! Jackie is in there!" There might still be hope for Jack. _Hadn't Jonah of the Bible been swallowed by a whale and spat out alive?_ The monster fish shuddered in its death throes. Teague forced his bleeding hands into the creature's throat. He felt something warm and mushy… _How badly was his little boy hurt?_ His heart sank. He grabbed hold and yanked whatever it was out.

It was half a seal pup. "Jackie! Where're ye, lad?" Teague screamed and turned to the sea.

"Da! Da!" Jackie's voice carried over the waves. He had lost his oilskin vest to the shark but seemed to be unscathed otherwise. Teague let out a sigh of relief. His butt-naked little boy was frolicking in the waves as if he were a seal pup himself.

"Look at dat, Eddie. He's a natural!" Grace thumped Teague on the back so hard his teeth rattled in his skull. Laughing, Jack hugged one of the seals and rode it onto the sand beside his father. The grin was wiped off his face when he saw his father's bleeding hands. "Da?" Jackie asked as he touched his father's leg gingerly.

"Better get those hands seen ta, Capt'n," Honest Tom said matter-of-factly. "What shall we do wi' de shark?"

"Shark steaks. Start up a fire, men," Captain Teague announced. "And salt de rest fer provisions!" A cheer of approval went up from his crew. They were all sick of Grace's weevil cookies and rat ragout.

* * *

><p>"And ye learnt ta swim from watchin' seals?" Pintel shook his head in disbelief. "Believe what ye wil', mateys. That's de whole truth, savvy?" Captain Jack Sparrow laughed and took a swig of his rum. He would never forget how both his grandmother and da fought a shark to save him.<p>

"Salt shark for dinner?" Ragetti called out from the galley.

"Watch de stove, ye moron!" Mister Pintel shouted a warning as he rushed over to stop the fire from catching Ragetti's shirt.

"Ye believe me, don't ye, luv?" Jack winked at Elizabeth. "Sure, I believe you, as much as I believe that story about the turtles…" Elizabeth replied.

Jack only shrugged. "Seals ain't sea turtles, Lizzie," he said and finished off his tankard.

**Author's Notes:**

Sea turtles, matey. And Jackie boy learnt to swim from seals.


	6. Bedtime Blues

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Getting stubborn young ones to bed is bound to try the patience of any parent. What more Captain Teague? Alternative title is _Get the (bleep) to Sleep, Jack Sparrow_.

**Bedtime Blues**

"May I have a story, da?" Jack asked as he peered over the top of his thin, patched blanket. Teague had a child's cot-bed put in his cabin for Jack after he outgrew that old sea chest which served as his cradle. Jack was a sound sleeper, once he got to bed and rarely suffered from nightmares or disturbed his da at night. However, it was getting harder to persuade the lad to go to his bed promptly as he grew older. Jack would hide away at bedtime, forcing the crew to seek him out. Hide-and-seek was one of Jack Sparrow's favourite games. Tonight, he had been found by his grandmother hiding in an apple barrel. The sea cook swiftly took him by the collar and delivered him to the captain.

"Nay, go tae sleep, wee Jackie…" Granny Grace snapped as she took away his tankard. Jack was old enough to use a tankard instead of a wineskin for his nightcap without spilling it all over his nightshirt. At three, he was an inquisitive lad who always seemed to be underfoot on the _Misty Lady._ Still, the crew enjoyed having the lad running about the deck, peering into nooks and crannies and asking about the sails and ropes. Honest Tom would sometimes take Jack on his knee and tell him tales about his childhood in in the shadow of the Tower of London and along the Thames. Leblanc Loup often entertained the crew with his funny anecdotes about a certain Frenchwoman he paid court to before turning pirate. Even Grace their cook was not above terrifying the crew with ghost stories from the Old Country of Erin. It seemed reasonable for Jackie to ask his father for a bedtime story.

"Story, please?" Jack asked and smiled his most dazzling smile at his old da. Teague laughed.

"Very well, Jackie boy…"

"Santa Maria! Bedtime story? Ye ain't some doddering old nursemaid, Capt'n. Besides, wee Jack will be bouncing about too much for sleepin' if ye tell 'im a tale…" the gnarled sea cook protested.

"Come on, Granny Grace, what harm can a wee bit of storytellin' do?"

"Yer funeral, Captain," Grace shrugged. She never saw the need to coddle her children with bedtime stories. _Why bother when you can scare the stockings off them with scary tales of banshees, vengeful pirate ghosts and the Flying Dutchman on All Hallows' Eve?_ She waddled out of the cabin, leaving Teague with his young son.

"Once upon a time…" Teague settled down on a bolted-down stool at his son's bedside.

"Da, may I have a blanket? I'm cold…" Jack asked. Teague got up from his stool. The wee laddie was right. They had abandoned the tropical Indian Ocean waters and were rounding the Cape for the Caribbean. There was a distinct nip in the air. Teague took out an extra blanket from his sea chest and draped it across his son's tiny frame. He then settled down onto his stool.

"Once upon a time, er, in Bristol… 'twas a wee lad who loved the sea…"

"Did he become a pirate?" Jack chirped.

"Aye, but we're getting ahead of the story…"

"Will dere be loads of swordfights and treasure and adventure?" Jack was hopping about in excitement.

"Jackie boy, will ye git back in bed?" Teague grated. Jack was jumping about him like an eager puppy.

"Sure, da…" Jack obediently clambered back in his bed.

"As I was saying, this boy dreamed of finding treasure…"

"I thought ye said he loved the sea…" Jack said.

"Both true, Jackie," Teague rubbed his temples. He was starting to feel a headache coming.

"I feel thirsty, da…" Jack whined.

"But you just had yer drink," Teague replied.

"But I'm still thirsty. Me throat's all dry…" Jack fidgeted.

Teague walked out to the scuttlebutt and returned with a mug of water, which his son happily drained. "Thanks, da," Jack grinned. The grin warmed Teague's heart. He tucked his son in, cleared his throat and continued.

"So this lad goes to sea…"

"Will there be a giant squid? And ghost ships?" Jack chirped. "Ye mustn't forget the pirates…"

"Who's tellin' the story, Jackie, me or ye?" Teague snapped. His head was starting to pound and Jack wasn't helping things by jumping about the cabin like an imp. "Git back to bed, Jackie! And go tae sleep!"

"But ye said ye will tell me a story!" Jack howled.

"Only if ye git back in bed." _Keep calm, Teague. _

Jack reluctantly crawled back between the bedclothes. Captain Teague cleared his throat. "'Twas this boy who loved the sea…"

Jack was bright-eyed and alert. Whatever calming effect his rum had on him had long worn off. Teague continued with the story. "So he joined a merchant-ship headed for de Bahamas…"

"Swordfight with pirates!" Jack bounced up and down on the bed in excitement.

"Pipe down, Jackie! And quit jumpin' on the bed!"

Hearing the racket from the captain's cabin, Granny Grace O'Nelly opened the cabin door a crack for a peep. She had finally mastered the art of opening the door without smashing it to slivers. Her young grandson was running circles round his poor da.

"Yoo-hoo-hoo… A pirate's life fer me!" Jack sang off-key and danced a bit of a hornpipe while his poor da buried his aching head in his hands.

"Git… back… tae bed… Jackie… please…"

_Santa Maria… _Grace shook her head. Captain Teague needed her help to put wee Jackie boy to bed. She strode into cabin, seized Jack by the scruff of his shirt and threw him onto his cot. She then thrust her dirk through the collar of Jack's nightshirt, pinning him to the bed and narrowly missing his skin.

"Jackie, stay in bed or else, _understood_?" his grandmother smiled a glittery grin. Grace O'Nelly had invested a fortune in gold teeth.

A stunned Jack could only nod his head. His grandmother pulled out her dirk and tucked him in. "Goodnight, Jackie, and sweet dreams." She turned to face Jack's father.

"That, Captain, is how ye git a bairn to bed." With a swish of her vast skirts, she was out of the cabin.

"Da?" Jack whimpered from his cot like a flogged pup.

"What now, Jackie?" Teague enquired.

"I-I wet me bed…" Jack sounded embarrassed.

Teague groaned. He yanked the covers off his son. Jack was sitting in a puddle of his own piss. They would have to change Jack's sheets before Jack could sleep, or…

"Jackie?" Teague lifted his son off the soiled bed and pulled his wet nightshirt off him.

"Aye, da?" Jack asked as his father pulled a fresh, clean shirt over his head.

"Ye're taking me bed tonite," Captain Teague shrugged. _What ever should we do with you? _He would deal with the wet sheets after Jack went to sleep.

**Author's Notes:**

And poor Teague never got to finish that bedtime story.


	7. Learning the Ropes

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Tying of knots, an essential skill of scouts, mountaineers, outdoorsmen, fisherfolk, mariners alike… That includes pirates.

**Learning the Ropes**

On board the _Misty Lady_, a father and son sat on a crate and a coil of rope respectively, both engrossed in manipulating the pieces of hempen cord in their hands. The father was a mariner weathered by many years at sea. His garments were long stiffened with salt spray and wind. The son was a younger version of his father, with a mischievous grin and a mop of unruly black hair.

"Sheepshank…" Teague twisted the cord in his hands and tied a perfect sheepshank.

"Sheepshank…" His offspring clumsily fumbled with his cord. His father steadily guided him along.

"Bowline…"

"Bowline…" Young Jack scrunched up his cherubic features as he made a loop with his cord. He needed some help from his da before he got the knot right.

"Clove hitch…" Teague deftly looped his cord through an iron ring on the bulwarks.

"Clove hitch!" Jack squealed in delight when he apparently got it right, then his face fell when the knot fell apart. Teague ruffled Jack's hair. "Ye'll git the hang of it," he encouraged his son. His young son was four now, and taking on a keen interest in everything on board the _Misty Lady._

"Any luck teachin' 'im?" Granny Grace called up from the galley.

"He's catching on…" Teague replied non-committedly. Perhaps Jackie was still too young to be taught knots. He was four and a half, according to Granny Grace. He was a small-built, like a string bean, no, a pea pod. The weary captain laid back for a snooze. Jack frowned. He did not want to upset his da, or his granny. The lad set his mind to the task at hand, tying knots. Perhaps he should use the big ropes that the sailors haul about the deck.

Jack managed to tie a bowline round his waist with some loose rope. Spotting a seagull nearby, he clambered onto the bulwark for a better look. A sudden gust of wind caught the helmsman and sailors off guard. The vessel tilted at an alarming angle for the merest fraction of a second, tipping the young sailor over the side. The vessel promptly righted when the helmsman regained control.

"DA!"

Teague awoke to his son's voice crying out. He glanced about the deck for his offspring but Jack was nowhere to be seen. The crew carried out their chores, trimming the sails and hauling rope.

"DA!" Jack's tone was more insistent and he sounded on the verge of tears. The voice seemed to be coming from over the side. _Could Jackie boy have fallen overboard?_ A fearful Teague peered over the side. Jack was hanging at the end of a length of rope tied round his waist, a good ten feet below the deck but safely above the ocean.

His father seized the other end of the rope and stoically hauled his son in. "How did ye end up dere, Jackie boy?" he asked when Jack was back safely on deck.

Teague listened patiently as his son explained how he came to be in his predicament. "A long drop at de end of a rope with a sudden stop's no fun, ain't it?" the captain said when his son was done.

"Twas no fun, da…" Jack nonchalantly admitted. He rubbed his bruises where the rope had caught him and arrested his fall. His knot had held up to the test.

For his part, Teague was proud that his son had managed to tie a proper bowline. However, he would need to teach the boy not to go climbing onto the bulwarks. He did not want to lose his son to the sea in some silly accident.

* * *

><p>"I helped Mister Tom tie down dat rope, da!" young Jack chirped with pride. "I ties good knots!" the boy sang out as he hopped about in an imitation of a hornpipe.<p>

"Good work, Jackie boy," Teague ruffled his son's hair with a laugh, and without checking the said knot. Honest Tom was studying Jack's handiwork with trepidation.

"Capt'n… may I humbly suggest we re-tie that knot… Doesn't look that secure…" Tom said quietly. Jack was new to knots and ropes. The chief mate did not want any accidents arising on board thanks to a greenhorn's knots.

"Pah, Tom. Leave it. My laddie can tie knots. So may I suggest ye git up to yer turn in the crow's nest stead of pickin' on Jackie…" the captain retorted.

"But…" Tom's words died in his throat when he saw Teague reach for his pistol. "Aye, aye, Capt'n." The chief mate scurried up the rigging in a hurry towards the crow's nest but he kept glancing at Jack's knot. Jack happily scampered below for a snack from his granny in the galley.

* * *

><p>"Granny Grace. I tied a knot!" Jack chirped. His grandmother was preparing lunch for the crew. Salted mutton and potatoes by the look of things. Of course, the rat's tail hanging outside the pot might suggest otherwise.<p>

"Good fer ye," Grace O'Nelly spat a wad of tobacco into a pot of boiled mutton, nothing like a bit of spice to give taste to a meal. "Do ye mind showing yer Granny what knot ye tied?"

Jack happily obliged with her apron strings.

"What knot be this?" Grace thoughtfully studied her grandson's handiwork.

"Clove hitch!"

"Nay, methinks it's a half-hitch and a slip knot. Where did ye tie this, pray tell?" the old Irishwoman was getting some really strong vibes of impending doom waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting mariner on board their vessel.

* * *

><p>The captain took out his guitar and started strumming. There was a delightful Spanish melody he heard in Marseilles, <em>or was it French? <em>Jenny Wren really enjoyed it. Perhaps he could play it for her the next time their paths crossed on the fickle ocean waves. Jack hadn't seen his mother for a bit, not seen that brief encounter in Port Royal where they had hauled in for repairs after a hurricane. They would have stayed an entire week if only the blasted British navy kept away.

_Ah,_ Teague breathed in the crisp salt air. _Jenny, of the raven tresses and slim waist…_ His fingers strummed the strings lazily as he hummed.

There was an ominous creaking as the wind filled the sails. Then there came a snapping sound and a panel of sailcloth came crashing to the deck, covering the hapless captain like a shroud before any of the other pirates could raise the alarm.

"Whassat, Gran?" Jack's ears perked up at the commotion above deck. "A cannonball? We under attack?"

"Methinks it's just yer old da learning ye're too wee to be trusted with knots and ropes yet, Jack Sparrow," Grace shrugged as Jack Sparrow gnawed on a weevil biscuit.

* * *

><p><em>Many years later… <em>

"Da, I'm a grown man and I tie proper knots…" Jack Sparrow complained as Captain Teague inspected the knot he had just tied. His father's careful scrutiny of his ropework always irked Jack Sparrow. Anyway, it was not an important or difficult knot, just a figure-eight used for wrapping up the Pirate Codex in oilskin while they transported it to Teague's _Misty Lady_. The Codex needed to be in a safer place, _perhaps Shipwreck Island? _It might be a while before a new Keeper was appointed. Jack would like to think it was the Codex his father was worried about, but the way his old da unconsciously touched the long-healed scar above his left eye suggested otherwise.

"Fine, da. I'm sorry I tied a bad knot that ended wi' ye getting' hit on the head with a sail,' Jack Sparrow admitted.

"Wasn't yer fault, Jackie. Twas me fault for not checkin'," Teague replied ambiguously as he slipped the Codex's key and chain over his head. He would hold it until the Brethren Court nominated a new Keeper.

"Capt'n, there's navy men prowlin' 'bout and we better get a move on," their lookout hissed a warning from below. True enough, they could hear the sound of many boots in the streets outside the ramshackle shack which was the last abode of the late Keeper of the Code. Teague pronounced himself satisfied by the knot by signalling to Jack Sparrow and Honest Tom to lift the cumbersome bundle of the Codex. He paused a moment to bid his last farewell to the departed keeper on the bed in the room before leaving.

**Author's Notes:**

Bad knots meant trouble for poor Teague and Jack Sparrow.

BTW, tobacco is not a spice. Granny Grace is just a rotten cook.


	8. Jack's Brother Willy

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

A sibling and some family time for wee Jackie. Oh, and how Bootstrap got his nickname.

**Jack's Brother Willy**

"William Turner, but folks call me Willy…" Jack glanced up at his new crewman's face. He seemed an honest sort, sturdy and dependable. Possibly not much of a pirate, but you had to give him the benefit of a doubt. Not all pirates were nasty brutes to start with. _Wasn't Black Bart a preacher before he went pirating?_ Jack scrutinized the man carefully, finally resting his eyes on the man's bootstraps.

"Bootstrap Bill Turner it is…" Captain Jack Sparrow scribbled the man's name down on his log.

"But, sir, William or Willy is just fine…"

"Nay, it ain't," Jack's teeth grated at the mention of that name. "If ye don't like yer new name, Bootstrap, ye're free tae git yer sorry butt off me _Pearl_!" The hapless sailor paled visibly under the glare Jack shot him. It was one Granny Grace and later Captain Teague often used on wayward crewmen to devastating effect.

"Aye, aye, Captain…" Bootstrap Bill replied and hastened off to join the rest of the crew. "What was that 'bout?" he whispered to the nearest crewman, who happened to be the chief mate, Hector Barbossa.

"Tis a long tale, mate," Hector chuckled as Jack Sparrow rubbed his temples and hollered for rum.

* * *

><p>It was sheer luck that the <em>Bloody Sunday <em>and the _Misty Lady _dropped anchor in the same hidden cove. As usual, Grace O'Nelly hopped over to catch up with her kin and kith in the customary exchange of fisticuffs so popular with her clan. Teague was glad to be free of the company of his garrulous cook and enjoy some decent cooking courtesy of his chief mate. Honest Tom did have a knack for whipping up half-decent meals at short notice. He had extended an invitation to Captain Jenny Wren for dinner, and perhaps a little more, after sending his men ashore for the night.

He was surprised when Jackie boy opted to stay on board instead of joining the men on shore. "I'm keepin' watch, da!" Jack chirped as he scrambled about the ropes like a monkey. Teague did not have the heart to toss his son into the longboat even though it meant that he and Jenny might have less privacy for their after-dinner pleasures. To his further surprise, Jenny did not come alone. She was accompanied by a sprightly lad, about three years younger than Jack Sparrow.

The newcomer's eyes blazed with the same intelligence as his mother's. "Willy, say hi to your father and brother Jack," Jenny said as she dropped a kiss on Willy's raven locks, which like Jack's, sported a few beads.

"Good evening, Father. Good evening, Brother Jack," Willy bowed in a courtly manner that was unspeakably charming for one so young. Mother and son had worn matching breeches, white silk shirts with ruffles and vests of red velvet. Teague felt underdressed in his salt-stiffened garments. Jack slid down the mast and greeted his mother. He was less welcoming of Willy.

"Jenny, you never told me…"

"Didn't get a chance to, Eddie. We haven't run into each other since four years or so back. Whatever made you go so far as the Indian Ocean?" Jenny shrugged prettily. Her shirt had slipped to reveal her creamy white shoulder. "Now, Jackie, Willy, do run off and play… Play nice, understand?"

"They should join us for dinner…" Teague suggested. "Dinner can wait," Jenny Wren batted her eyelids and shoved Teague gently but firmly into the captain's cabin.

"Whatever are they doing?" Willy stared at the closed cabin door.

"Grown-up stuff, methinks… come, little brother Willy, let's do some brotherly stuff…" Jack grinned. He had never had someone younger than him on board before, much less a little brother. Jack had his ear pierced and a silver ring put in just a week ago and he felt very grown-up. "Let's go up to the crow's nest… Willy?" Jack looked around for his brother.

"Big brother Jack! What's taking you so long?" Willy's voice called from somewhere high up. Jack glanced up to see the small figure shimmying up the mainmast. The pair soon found themselves in the crow's nest, just as the first stars peeked out.

"Look, Willy. There's Orion…" Jack pointed out the constellations. "That's the Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Orion the Hunter is hunting them with his two dogs, Canis Major and Canis Minor" Willy added. "Mother taught me so. Did Father teach you anything?"

"Of course Da did. He teaches me to read maps and tie knots… Look, I can trim sails, watch!" Jack balanced himself on the spars and started unfurling the top sail.

"That's baby stuff. Did da let you steer his ship?" Willy was not too impressed by Jack's demonstration.

"No…" Jack frowned. "But I can if I want to! Da wouldn't mind!" he started down the mainmast.

"Wait, we shouldn't. Mother only lets me steer when she's on deck!" Willy called out and followed Jack down. It was too late. Jack took hold of the wheel and turned it round. Normally, the sails would have been lowered and the anchor set firmly in the coral. This time, a sudden breeze caught the unfurled top sail. The ropes creaked with the strain and the anchor found no purchase in the loose sand of the cove.

CRASH! The jolt jarred both Teague and Jenny off their bunk. "What the blazes was that?" Jenny cursed in an unladylike manner. She grabbed her clothes and threw them on. Teague did the same with his breeches. He was certain his ship had run aground. The dishevelled pair opened the cabin door.

"Brother Jack did it!" Willy whimpered and pointed an accusing finger at Jack, who was still holding the wheel.

"Tattletale!" Jack yelled back at Willy. He was in for trouble. Both da and ma looked furious.

"Jack Sparrow! Wilhelmina Raven! Over the nearest cannon now!" Jenny Wren shrieked in a livid rage. She grabbed a length of rope to use for flogging her miscreant offspring.

"Wait, did you say Wilhelmina, as in a girl? Willy's me daughter?" Teague gaped. _Whatever would he do with a little girl?_ He prayed Jenny Wren was not thinking of leaving her with him. The faint sound of sloshing water below reminded Teague that he ought to inspect any damage to his ship before it was too late.

"Ye're a girl?" Jack gritted his teeth as his ma soundly lashed his bottom and Willy's with a length of rope. The pair had bent over the same cannon for easy discipline.

"Can't tell eh?" Willy grinned mischievously through her tears. "Let's go sailing to the ends of the world next…" _She knew they would get along just fine…_ Jack thought otherwise. Thankfully, Willy stayed with the _Bloody Sunday_ instead of joining the _Misty Lady_.

* * *

><p>"Brother Jack!" a voice brought Jack out of his reverie. "Coo-ee! Look what I picked up from the Great Southern Island!" Jack instinctively ducked as a boomerang scythed through the air where his head was. It did smash the rum bottle, though, spilling rum all over the deck.<p>

"That's Captain Jack Sparrow to you!" Jack yelled back over the side at his younger sister. "And you spilled me rum!"

"Mother says that if you don't stop pickling yourself in a rum barrel, you'll likely to get made governor of a sand bar! Would you drop by for tea? We've got a box of Gunpowder…" Willy was rowing an Indian canoe alongside the Pearl. She was incongruously clad in a black mourning gown with a black veil-trimmed bonnet. Jack recalled some rumour he heard about Willy Raven's recent loss.

"And get arsenic-ed like yer last husband? I'll pass…"

"Don't be silly. That was Mother's secret recipe," the new widow giggled. "Toodles then…" Still giggling, Willy paddled off into the mist.

"Yer sis, Captain?" Bootstrap asked as he studied the discarded bommerang.

"That's why, Bootstrap, I refuse to have anyone named Willy on board me ship… Hoist the sails! We're leaving!" Before Willy decided to pay a second courtesy call.

**Author's Notes:**

Pure ridiculous-ness basically.

Great Southern Island – Willy's referring to Australia

Made governor of a sand bar – marooned as Jack was eventually.

Gunpowder Tea – a type of tea.


	9. Kids Say the Darnest Things

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Kids Say the Darnest Things**

The Keeper of the Code scooped the remainder of his meal from his plate and wolfed it down before polishing off his rum. He then lay back on his bunk in Shipwreck Cove for a nap. As he did so, he brought his hand up to brush a stray braid from his brow. The familiar glint of that plain gold ring round the ring finger of his left hand brought a grin to his face. He wondered how his wife was doing. _Wife._ He hadn't seen Jenny Wren in a bit but it was odd to think they were connected somehow by a pair of unassuming rings. And it was all because of Jack.

Teague never saw the need for the whole joined in holy matrimony till death do us part gig. He was certain that Jenny Wren did not care about that ring on the finger and seeing that Granny Grace has yet to hang his severed head from the yardarm… Besides, Teague was certain he would shoot the priest halfway through the ceremony for long-windedness. It was only in Jack's eighth year that he gave serious thought to his and Jenny's matrimonial status. It all started one day in the Cove when they were in port.

* * *

><p>"Git outta me way, ye little bastard!" a drunk bellowed at Jack. Jack fled, but not before relieving said drunk of his purse. Teague chuckled and glowed with pride at his son's daring. <em>True, he could be a handful at times, but which lad wasn't up to some kind of mischief at least half the time? Lads be lads… <em>

"Ya watcha yerself, ye pox-ridden son of a whore!" Stepping out of a nearby forge, Granny Grace replied to the insult to her grandson by smashing the drunk's head with the _Misty Lady's_ new anchor, which they had been collecting from the smith.

"Da, da, what's a bastard?" Jack asked.

Before Teague could come up with a reply, Granny Grace continued. "That's what ye are, Jackie lad."

"Why am I a bastard? Is it because me hair is black? Is da a bastard too?" Jack asked innocently. Granny Grace roared with laughter as she shouldered the anchor.

"A bastard is someone whose da and ma ain't wed… Relax, Jackie, most of us pirates are bastards…" Grace O'Nelly grinned. "Besides, it is a tad troublesome for a pirate man to hold a wedding when he could jus screw some wench or whore…"

"What's a wedding?" Jack asked. "I know screwing is what Granny Grace and Jonny Smith get up to in the bilges…" Teague pretended he did not hear that last bit about their cabin boy and the cook.

"Let yer da tell ye that. He knows more about wedding than little old me," Granny Grace replied.

"Well, a wedding is when a man and a woman decide they'd get together and start a family. They go to their parish church and hold a ceremony with a big feast afterwards for their friends…" Captain Teague tried to recall what he could of those weddings he had attended as a child, way before he became a pirate.

"A feast, with food and games and all? Sounds fun… why didn't da and ma have a wedding?" Jack asked.

"Because they couldn't find a church…" Teague lied. There had been a church near the tavern where Jack was conceived. There was a priest there, at least until Blackbeard shot him. "Ye don't need no wedding to start a family…"

"Right," Jack nodded in agreement. "What's a church, da? Is it like _Mother Carey's_ tavern?"

"Santa Maria!" Granny Grace laughed and slapped Teague on the back. "They are full o' questions at that age, aren't they?"

"No, Jackie… A church is, well…" Teague floundered. Like the average pirate, Teague was not religiously inclined and hadn't seen the inside of a church since the time he looted a Spanish mission chapel when he was still slogging it out as a crewman.

"A church is where folks go to pray to God. They go sit and listen to the priest talk and read from a Bible…" Granny Grace started.

"Does this priest tell funny stories?" Jack asked.

"No, he talks about how everyone is going to burn in hell," Grace O'Nelly said with a wicked twinkle in her eye. "So Blackbeard got bored and shot him."

"So why do folks wanna hold a wedding in church and listen to someone telling them that they will go hell?" Jack summed up. "I would hold a weddin' on a ship! Why can't we hav a weddin' on a ship?"

"Because we need someone to marry, and yer ma is not on board…" Teague was starting to feel his nerves fraying. He seriously wondered if it would be against any rule in the Pirate Code against gagging a chattering offspring and tying him to the mainmast.

"Maybe Johnny Smith and Granny Grace can get wed… Or Honest Tom's cockerel and that nanny goat…" Jack suggested solemnly. "Or maybe the old rum barrel and the cooking pot…" The crewmates in earshot were trying unsuccessfully to stifle their chuckles at Jackie's words.

"Tell ye what, capt'n," Grace slapped Teague on the shoulder. "Next time we cross paths with Jenny, you pop her de question. If she says yes, Jackie lad's going to stop being a bastard."

* * *

><p>It was the very next day that the <em>Misty Lady<em> and the _Bloody Sunday_ crossed paths. Teague ran to the side after ordering his crew to steer his vessel alongside Jenny's. Before he could get round to asking her to marry him, Jack's shrill voice called out over the sound of the waves and wind.

"Ma! Ma! Da's gonna ask ye to marry him so dat folks will stop callin' me a bastard!"

Teague turned red in the face as Jenny gawped. Granny Grace roared with laughter, as did both crews.

"What's a bastard, Brother Jack?" Jack's little sister called out innocently. Li'l Willy had joined her mother on the deck. She climbed onto the bulwark to better see her da and brother.

"Well, I am one, and ye're one too!" Jack replied. His innocent reply had the crew rolling on the decks in mirth.

"Well, I never!" Jenny Wren shook her head. "No one's calling my children bastards! Eddie, have you got the rings?" She then gave orders for boarding.

It was an odd wedding ceremony that was held on the decks of the _Misty Lady_ that fine day. Wee Jackie and his sister Li'l Willy watched in glee as their parents stood before the mainmast where the _Bloody Sunday_'s chaplain and Jenny's brother, Rev Rab Two-knives, had them wed. The rings were plain metal, forged from some iron manacles which happened to be lying about the _Bloody Sunday_. Jenny Wren managed to dig out a white dress for her wedding gown while Teague simply made do with his best clothes, the set which had the least stains on them. Jenny had popped her little girl into a frock while Jackie protested heartily at being forced into pair of leather shoes. Jackie also decided he did not like weddings that much then.

The bridal couple were liberally doused with rum in lieu of rice and Jenny tossed a bouquet of rope and rags instead of flowers. It landed in the lap of her cousin Rosa, after bouncing off the head of the _Misty Lady's_ gunner. Rosa and the gunner then adjourned to the bilges where Teague supposed Rosa was seducing the hapless salior.

What Teague did not really enjoy was receiving the congratulatory slaps on the back from the crewmen. The slaps from Jenny Wren's brothers were particularly vigorous. Teague was certain, at least he hoped, that Rev Rab did not mean to knock him clean down the stairs. The slap from Granny Grace broke his shoulder and knocked him out cold and there he remained for the next two days. By the time he awoke, his new wife had long sailed off in search for Spanish gold, leaving him with that iron ring round his finger as a reminder of his new marital status. He would later replace their rings with a pair of gold ones, since iron tended to rust.

**Author's Notes:**

BTW, Li'l Willy is Jack's little sister Wilhelmina. She lives with her mother Captain Jenny Wren and they are OCs.


	10. Swordplay

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Swordplay **

Captain Jack Sparrow watched in amusement as their newest recruit received an impromptu sword fighting lesson from the gunner. Pintel wasn't that handy with a cutlass either. So both combatants were locked in a clumsy dance across the deck. More often than not, the pair tripped over ropes and loose shot. Barbossa chuckled when Ragetti fumbled and dropped his sword, straight onto his own foot. The young pirate howled in agony and hopped about the deck clutching his injured foot.

"Hey, Pintel, tell yer mate the pointy-end goes in yer gut," the watching chief mate roared with laughter.

"Keep at it, Rags. Ye'll improve with practice," Jack called out some encouragement. Both captain and chief mate winced when Ragetti picked up his discarded sword and clumsily poked his own eye out. _Looks like Ragetti would need a lot more practice._

* * *

><p>It was a sunny day in Tortuga as the <em>Misty Lady<em> bobbed at anchor. Young Jack Sparrow was left to his games as the crew busied themselves with repairs and provisioning their vessel.

"There comes a time in a lad's life when he must be taught the way of the sword… It is now, Capt'n," Granny Grace said solemnly as she held out a sword to Captain Teague. It was a beautifully crafted blade, taken from a captured Spanish admiral of short stature, so it should not be too long or heavy for a young boy like Jack. The pirate glanced over to where his son was fighting an imaginary foe with a stick. With a sigh, the man took the sword from the sea cook and called for his son. Once his mother-in-law set her mind to something, he would get no peace, and probably a broken nose, if he failed to cater to her whim.

"Da, da, are ye goin' to teach me to use a real sword?" Jack Sparrow chirped as he ran over to his old da. He saw the gleaming hilt and the shiny black scabbard. He knew what was going to happen was going to be a big event for any lad.

"Aye, Jackie boy…" Teague handed Jack his first sword.

"Wow! Thanks, da!" the boy exclaimed. Jack tugged the sword out of its scabbard and overbalanced, landing with a heavy crash on his rump. "OW!"

Undeterred by this momentary setback, Jack Sparrow was back on his feet. "On guard…" Jack did a mock thrust and was swiftly parried by a laughing Teague with the stick Jack had been playing with earlier. Young Jack had often observed close-quarters combat from the safety of the rigging, captain's cabin or from the behind the bulwarks when Teague's crew boarded another ship or on the rare occasion they were boarded by hostile parties. Jack Sparrow was familiar with the standard moves.

"What do ye know 'bout swords, Jackie?" their chief mate called out from beside the main mast.

"Pointy bit goes into the other guy," Jack yelled over his shoulder and swung playfully at the mainmast in a mock attack. Honest Tom dodged and faked a grievous injury.

"Ye killed me, Jack…" the chief mate flopped down clutching his chest. He earned himself a kick in the ribs from an annoyed Granny Grace.

"Quit foolin' and git those potatoes o'er 'ere!" She kicked him in the rear to emphasize her impatience. The mate scrambled for the sacks. Jack grinned and raised his sword.

"Don't clench the hilt too tight or ye'll git de cramps," Teague warned. "Loose in de wrist, Jackie-boy." His heart swelled with a father's pride as his young son spun and swung his blade with ease, getting used to the weight he held.

Teague took his old sword out and called Jack to attention. Jack paused. "Let's have ourselves a duel," Teague laughed. Jack nodded earnestly. The sword Teague held was as blunt as sheep's teeth for most part. He did not wish to harm one hair on his son's head since Jackie was new to handling a sword. Soon both father and son were crossing blades as they pranced about the deck, dancing between the crewmates loading and hauling ropes, crates and other provisions. His son did not disappoint. Jack was agile on his feet and gave his old da a good fight.

"Watch fer that rope, Jackie!" Teague snapped as Jack almost tripped over a coil of rope. "Keep yer surroundings in sight," the father advised.

"Aye, aye, da!" Jack did a backflip over a crate to escape a thrust. Teague chuckled.

So caught up in their fencing was he that Teague did not notice a small nick in his blade. With every clash, with every parry… it stealthily deepened, until the inevitable happened.

With a resounding clash, the sword snapped. The severed sword point spun into the air and found its mark.

"ARGH!" Granny Grace's scream of pain shook the rigging of the _Misty Lady_ like a typhoon. Seagulls within a five mile radius of the ship took fright and fled. The captain and Jack Sparrow blanched when they saw where the wayward point had ended up – sticking out of the ample rump of their gnarled sea cook. Granny Grace had been bent over trying to lift a heavy barrel of salt ham.

"Ah'll tear ye limb from limb, ye scurvy dog! With me bare hands!" an enraged Granny Grace cursed heartily as she yanked the offending point out of her rump and threw it within a few inches of Captain Teague's head. Honest Tom the first mate put up a brave show trying to restrain the sea cook but she swatted him aside as if he were nothing but an insect. Her beady eyes oozed pure murder. She fixed them on both father and son.

"RUN!" Without much ado, Teague shoved his son in the direction of the gangplank. With a few bounds, Jack was off the ship and sprinting across the docks. His da followed. The duo fled for their very lives as Granny Grace raged behind them like an angry bull. It was a good fifteen minutes before both father and son found refuge in an alley and Granny Grace gave up the chase.

"Ye forgot one thing, da…" Jack gasped for breath.

"What, Jackie boy?" Teague wheezed and mopped sweat off his brow.

"Keep the pointy end outta Granny Grace's butt," Jack jested. Teague slapped his son on the shoulder with a laugh. Their lucky escape called for a bottle of rum.

They would spend the rest of the day loitering in the tap room of the _Faithful Bride_ over a bottle of rum before Honest Tom limped in to announce that Granny Grace has calmed down and forgiven them, would they please get their rumps back on board so they could start pillaging merchant ships?

* * *

><p>The crew had just fought off an attempted boarding by some pirates Jack had pissed off at the last port. Blood still stained the deck but most of it was not from their men. Jack had fought like a wildcat, often taking on two or three opponents at once. The best fighters on board, in Bootstrap Bill's humble opinion, were the first mate Barbossa and their captain Jack Sparrow. Barbossa was taught by a master fencer as a lad, so he claimed during a drinking session. No one knew who taught their captain his sword-fighting.<p>

"That was some neat sword-work. Who taught ye to use a sword, Captain?" Bootstrap Bill asked. He handed his captain a bottle of rum.

"Me old da," Jack grinned and silently toasted his da. _Thanks, da._

**Author's Notes:**

A brief insight into Jack's education in the arts of sword fighting.


	11. Jack's First Dog

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Jack's First Dog**

He had expected it. There always came a time when a wee laddie would stumble over a doe-eyed ball of fur with a wet nose and be seized by an unshakable notion he has found a friend for life. Teague regarded six-year-old Jack Sparrow. His offspring was grinning in the belief that Jack Sparrow could get away with everything he asked of his da. Not this time.

"Da, can we keep him please?"

Teague was going to have to put his foot down hard. "No."

"But, da, he's such a friendly pup and…"

"Jackie boy, that mutt is a goddamned giant hound who's gonna have us out of provisions ere we set sail…" Teague glanced at the beast, whose tail was merrily wagging away, beating a tattoo on the bulwarks. Jack claimed he found the creature in an alley and he followed him on board. If only it had been a small dog like a rat-terrier or spaniel. "He's gonna git in de way of our work and be nothin' but a nuisance."

Jack's 'puppy' was a fully-grown monster the size of a small cow. Said mutt was now helping himself to the ham Teague was intending to have cooked for their dinner. The dog was so huge that the crate below creaked ominously under his weight. Sensing their dinner ham in danger, Honest Tom and Mister Hobbs were trying to dislodge the beast but they could not make him budge an inch. With a loud groan, they watched as the ham disappeared down the dog's gullet. Having finished the crew's ham dinner, the mutt yawned and settled down for a nap, right on top of the navigator and first mate, forcing a stream of hearty curses from the pair. There was an audible cracking sound as someone's rib broke.

Teague shouted for the rest of the crew to move the beast before the two men were crushed to death. With a good deal of shoving and pushing, the men rescued Honest Tom and Mister Hobbs. The wounded men were hurriedly carried below for the doctor. The dog slept through the commotion. He was large that when he rolled over, he blocked the stairs to the aft-deck.

"Ye can't git him off the _Misty Lady_, da. And ye have to leave on evening-tide. So I git to keep de doggy, savvy?" Jack pointed out mischievously. The lad had a point. No one was budging that mutt.

Teague groaned. "What will ye be callin' this mutt?"

"Nuisance, Just Nuisance!" Jack Sparrow chirped.

Teague forced a wry grin in reply. He had two hours before the tide turned against them and he hoped they would be able to get their work finished before then. No mean feat with that infernal hound. Teague shouted out a warning a second too late as Four-Eyes Joe tripped over an outstretched paw and fell headlong over the side. The dog only cocked an ear at the splash of the luckless pirate landing in the harbour.

"Eddie Teague! What's dis I spy?" Granny Grace poked her head out of the hatch at the commotion. She had been napping below in the galley until that splash roused her. Teague wondered what she would make of the giant hound.

"Me pet doggy, Gran," Jack grinned. "His name's Nuisance!" the exuberant boy threw his arms round the sleeping dog's neck.

"Nay, it ain't," Granny Grace murmured and lit her pipe. "His name is Dinner Tonight… Ah have a nice recipe for stewed dog haunches… Don't mind me, wee Jackie. Cosy up to 'im all ya want. Tonight he's sleepin' in our bellies…" the sea cook disappeared below deck and the sounds of the whetstone being spun drifted up. Jack Sparrow stared at his da in disbelief. The grin on his face had died.

_Please tell me she was jesting…_ Jack's eyes pleaded silently. Before the captain could reply, Granny Grace popped her head back up and raised the axe she had been sharpening. "Think it's sharp nuff, _mon capitane_? Should git a barrel to catch de blood once de head comes off… Go on, Jackie. I'm sure ya want to help us hold 'im when…" The afternoon sun glinted off the wicked blade. "We could have doggy meatballs, salty-dog ribs… He sure has more than enough meat ta go round…"

Paling visibly, Jack leapt to his feet and hastily prodded the dog onto his paws. Without a word, he took the dog by the scruff of the neck and steered him towards the gangplank. Still stone-faced, he led the sleepy mutt onto the docks. The mutt yawned and settled back to sleep on a crate of salt-fish left out on the docks. Jack Sparrow returned to the ship alone.

"I don't wanna have a dog, da," he said quietly.

"Not this time, Jackie. Sorry but he's too much dog for our old ship," Teague ruffled his son's hair fondly. He hugged him as the boy wept into his shirt.

* * *

><p>"Grace O'Nelly," Teague admonished his cook quietly once they had left port. "That was unnecessary. Poor Jackie's still cut up about that damned mutt." His son had cried as he waved farewell to his mutt. For his part, the dog, <em>unfeeling ingrate<em>, had just yawned and trotted off after a skinny brown bitch without a care in the world. Young Jack had complained of a tummy-ache and gone to his hammock without dinner or even his rum ration.

"Necessary ill, captain. Ye wouldnae have handled havin' that mutt on board," Granny Grace shrugged as she spooned out a dollop of her seafood stew. She grinned wickedly. "Though I do hav those recipes on hand… If ye be hankering for doggy ribs, just git me a hound-dog and we could…"

"I'll pass on the dog…" the captain took his bowl from her. There was a shrivelled piece of fish in the stew and some unrecognizable nuggets which could be shrimp. _Poor Jackie boy. Perhaps the next time he asked…_

* * *

><p><em>A few months later…<em>

"Da, da! Can I keep him? Please?" Jack Sparrow chirruped. Feathers flew. Squawks and angry curses broke the peace on decks.

"Git this infernal hell-chicken off me!" Granny Grace howled as she tried to defend herself against the beak and talons of a large macaw. She tried to grab the bird with her meaty hands but the bird was too agile and quick for her. If she had, she would definitely have wrung its neck.

"Ye shouldn't hav talked of cookin' 'im, Granny. They say parrots are smart," Jack Sparrow taunted. Teague glanced at the livid sea cook, the flapping bird and his son's earnest young face.

"Jack Sparrow! If ye don't git dis feather-duster away from me… Argh! Teague, come give me a hand ere!" Granny Grace thundered towards the captain. She was bleeding from the nose and cheek where the bird had clawed her. Blinded by the bird's flapping wings, she could not stop herself in time, barrelling straight into the hapless Teague. With a resounding splash, both sea cook and captain fell over the side and into the harbour. Treading water, Teague looked up at his son peering over the side. The prospective pet parrot pooped on his upturned face. Teague spat and wiped his face with his hand.

"Er, I guess that's a no, right da?" Jack peered over the side warily with the parrot crowing his triumph overhead.

"NO!" both father and grandmother shouted as one.

**Author's Notes: **

And poor Jackie boy has no pets because his da and granny said so.

There was a naval dog named Just Nuisance who served in South Africa during WWII. He was a Great Dane. He is the inspiration for Jack's dog. About dog-meat, well, there are places where it is on par with chicken or mutton but I don't think either Teague or Jack Sparrow would be too keen on having mutt on their plates.


	12. Horrible History

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

The tradition of story-telling, as demonstrated by a gnarled pirate.

**Horrible History**

New Year's Eve. Captain Jack Sparrow sighed contently and placed his emptied mug on the table. He wished Lizzie had been more generous with the rum but he wasn't going to scoff at what little she could spare. Bringing up a little one alone was tough work. Little William Turner III sat by the fire in the back room of the tavern as his mother busied herself with the raucous merrymakers out front. As far as he was concerned, Uncle Jack was a friend of his parents and always welcome at the _Captain Turner Inn & Tavern_.

"Uncle Jack, please tell me another story…" the little boy pleaded. Jack laughed and cast a wary eye at the door. Mrs Turner was still preoccupied. Lizzie did not approve of relating the more gory aspects of their adventures to her little one. But all little boys delight in the bloodier aspects of the tale. _Who wanted a squeaky-clean story when the gruesome truth was so much more interesting? _

"Very well, Willie lad, did anyone ever tell ye of yer granddad Bootstrap Bill and how a mean pirate threw him over the side tied to a cannon with his bootstraps?" The little boy shook his head. Jack launched into his tale of mutiny, double-cross and swordfights with a flourish.

* * *

><p>Teague opened up his battered bible to the page where his family tree was listed. Jackie boy had learned to read and write and his father was going to relate the modest but proud family history of the Teagues. The <em>Bloody Sunday<em> and _Misty Lady_ had dropped anchor in Aruba and the crews were catching up on their rest ashore. Jenny Wren had dropped off their little girl for a few hours while she saw to some personal matters involving a pair of pistols, a rival captain and a pit in the sand. The table had been set with platters of salt ham, biscuits and apples for the children if they got peckish. If only Grace O'Nelly had not seen fit to interrupt.

"Here is yer great-grandfather, Francis Teague, seaman, who married Ann White, a vicar's daughter… Their sons, Henry, George and John… Only yer grandfather, Henry, had issue, that's me, your da and your aunt Mary who died of the pox…" Captain Edward Teague related in a monotone. Both his offspring, Jack and his little sister Wilhelmina, yawned and tried to keep awake.

"Santa Maria! Whatever are ya doin'? Boring the bairns to death?" Granny Grace declared. She snatched the bible from him, to Teague's chagrin.

"I was jus tellin' them of the family history…" Teague grabbed the bible back from the sea cook.

"Wakey-wakey, laddies and lassies… Granny's gonna tell ye of the glorious piratical histories of yer clan!" Grace yanked a large scroll out of her shopping basket and unfurled it on the table. The children perked up immediately. Their dark eyes glowed in eager expectation.

"Will ye tell us of how they sacrificed Olaf the Red to the pagan gods?" Wilhelmina asked. Granny Grace nodded. "Yea, and how long it took Great-grandpa Samuel O'Nelly to die at de end of a rope."

"Grace, I am not sure dis is proper for young uns to hear…" Teague voiced his doubts but the gnarled pirate was on her way and the children were drinking it all up like a sponge in rum.

"Here's yer earliest piratical ancestor, Olaf the Viking…" she pointed at a smudge with a near-illegible scrawl in it. "Caught by the Danes and sacrificed in the manner of the Blood Eagle to the pagan Norse gods. They cut open 'is back, broke 'is ribs and yanked out 'is lungs…" she skimmed over the parchment to another name. "Here's where the proud O'Nelly clan came in, Jock O'Nelly, hung, drawn and quartered for piracy in London during the reign of King Edward III. Rab, his son, beheaded by the Fishers of Skye for the same reason…" Granny mimed the motions of an executioner swinging the axe.

"Mother said they used a blunt axe, so it took thirteen swings to get it off!" Wilhelmina asked. "And his brother Neill avenged him by firing the Fishers' chieftain from a cannon." Granny Grace nodded.

"We ain't all black Irish, lassie. Ah, a spot of Turkish blood here in the form of Ali Bey, Terror of the Mediterranean until he sailed into some rival pirates off some Greek coast. He did marry an O'Nelly lass sojourning in Venice as one of his many wives, so let's say he's family."

"What happened to him, Granny?" Jack asked.

"No one really knows but they say he was boiled alive in a cauldron before being fed to the wild boars," Granny shrugged. Teague choked on the piece of salt-ham he had been chewing on. He did not feel all that hungry now.

"Let's not forget our Spanish cousin who was keelhauled to death by the Dutch off the East Indies. He might have survived if that shark had not taken a bite outta him…" The children's eyes were glowing with ghoulish delight as Granny Grace related the proceedings of keelhauling.

"And here is Alessandro the Sicilian, who was tied to a plank and tossed into the sea by his own crew. A shark came along and started biting chunks outta his limbs as he was trying to paddle to shore…" the proud grandmother pointed at another smudge. "And poor Matthew who was skinned alive by the Turks… we have his skin in the captain's cabin in the _Bloody Sunday_. Makes a nice tapestry with his tattoos."

"Tell us of the grisly demise of granduncle James O'Nelly, Granny…" Wilhelmina chirped. Granny laughed.

"Ah, old Jamie. Torn in twa by a cannonball. His top half landed on the aft deck and the bottom bits below… Made a proper mess. I trust Jenny Wren will shaw ye the stains if ye asked 'er."

"Oh, Mother did tell me about those stains. And how Uncle James drags himself by his arms below decks at midnight looking for his bottom bits. Father, could ye pass the ham please? I feel peckish…" Wilhelmina waved at the food.

"Uncles Samuel, Joe and Cousin Harry. I guess they are still gracing de entrance to Port Royal. Do salute them if ye happen to pass that way, will ya?" Grace pointed at another smudge on the scroll. Teague had quite enough.

"Grace, are there any pirates in yer family who lived to a ripe old age?" the captain asked. Piracy was a hazardous profession but surely…

"Well, ye're looking at her, Captain. Grace O'Nelly, pirate lord of the Irish Sea," Grace O'Nelly shrugged. "If I had my rathers, I would love to die in me own bed but I would accept goin' out in a blaze of glory with a cutlass in one hand and a pistol in the other."

"Da, I wanna be a pirate, but a smart one to send the navy and other pirates in circles trying to catch me," Jack chirped.

"Be sure to do that, Brother Jack, and if you do get caught and hung I will be there to salute your rotting corpse," his sister added merrily.

* * *

><p>Jack Sparrow grinned at the memory of his childhood. Granny Grace, God bless her black Irish soul, died in her sleep with a bottle of rum in one hand and a lit pipe in the other. At least Jack hoped that was the way she went. Dying in a fire caused by smoking in bed was a bit of a disgrace after a life spent dodging naval ships and pillaging on the high seas. His old da was as salty and gnarled as always. However, he supposed that if his sister and her brats dropped over at Shipwreck Cove, he would regal them with piratical tales in all their blood-soaked glory.<p>

He glanced down at the youngster drowsing against his knee. The whelp's pup really enjoyed hearing the tale about his granddad, the Kraken and the Locker. Jack was glad that things worked out well for old Bootstrap and the whelp in the end. Next time, he would tell of Blackbeard's gruesome demise. Little boys loved that gory stuff. But he would have to be sure Lizzie was out of earshot.

A cough drew his attention. "You had to tell him about you being eaten by the Kraken, did you?" Lizzie chided gently. She placed a fresh rum bottle on the table and poured out some tea for herself. "He could have nightmares," she said as she scooped up her little son into her arms and settled him in his little cot.

"No nightmares for 'im. Only dreams of adventure, Lizzie," Jack grinned, lifted his bottle and gulped down his rum.

**Author's Notes:**

Teague's children are so darling, aren't they? Happy New Year.


	13. First Breeches

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

I was reading about childcare in early modern Europe and was surprised to learn that before the 19th century, little boys under the age of five were wearing dresses. They 'graduate' to breeches with a small ceremony called 'breeching' which I suppose most boys would look forward to. So here is a little trip down memory lane for Teague about Jack's first pair of breeches.

**First Breeches**

In his shack on Shipwreck Cove, Teague strummed lazily on his guitar as his daughter and seven grandchildren scampered about him in a raucous caper. The Code Keeper knew that if he stopped strumming, he would give in to the urge to put a pistol ball in the cause of the chaos and Willy would not appreciate her little boy getting shot by his grandfather. Wilhelmina Raven had presented him with grandchildren at the rate of one a year with the occasional set of triplets. Widowed for the third time, she was facing some problems in the child-rearing field with her first boy.

"Jean Baptiste, get back here and put on your breeches!" a harried Willy yelled as her son danced out of her reach. Egged on by their brother's defiance, Willy's girls were taking the chase as a game.

"Don't want to! Itchy!" the bare bottomed boy mooned his irate mom and clambered up the house post. "JEAN! Get your good self down before I shake you out!" Willy yelled and started kicking the post, causing the entire shack, which was made of a haphazard tumble of ship timbers, to shake alarmingly. Enough was enough. Teague stopped strumming, grabbed a nearby boathook and hooked the runaway lad onto the floorboards.

"Jean Baptiste, is that yer name?" Teague asked. The wide-eyed child nodded and rubbed his bruised bottom. He probably received a few good-sized splinters in it landing that hard.

"Yea, after yer dear papa," Teague said with a sardonic grin. He always questioned his daughter's choice of husbands. "Look here, laddie. Either ye wear them breeches like your ma says, or wear a lacy dress for the rest of yer sorry life and we'll call yer Little Lacey."

The boy thought for a moment, spat in his palm and stuck out his hand. "Deal, grandpapa! Breeches please, ma…" Grandfather and grandson shook hands and Jean got ready to wear his first breeches.

"Thanks, da," Willy grinned as she helped her son into his new breeches. "It was nothing, lass. Compared to getting yer brother into his first breeches," Teague grinned. "Now, lass, whatever possessed you to name yer children Patience, Verity, Mercy, Faith, Hope, Charity and Jean Baptiste?"

* * *

><p>"This is a grand day for wee Jackie," Granny Grace said as she toddled a young Jack in the privacy of the captain's cabin. Captain Teague smiled and pulled out the garment the proud grandmother had stitched together over the past week. It was a pair of breeches, Jackie's first.<p>

Wee Jack had been wearing an old shirt of his da's cut down to size since he started walking. He was getting too old to run around bare-bottomed now. Teague had obtained or rather, pillaged, a boy's shirt of fine cambric for him from a Dutch merchantman, but Granny Grace insisted on taking care of the all-important breeches. To be honest, Teague regretted catering to his mother-in-law's whims for this.

Granny Grace had chosen a scarlet tartan fabric, possibly her old woollen shawl. Perhaps he should be grateful she did not use her floral skirt. And she did accept the suggestion not to use the silver buttons in favour of plain old laces. Those buttons were much too fiddly for a young boy. At least with the activities Jack Sparrow was likely to engage in on deck, the awful scarlet colour would be obscured by tar, oil and other noxious substances before long.

"Go on, put them on…" the proud father urged as he handed the garment to his son. Jack eagerly took the garment and stared at the woven laces at the waist. Without much ado, he tried putting them on the same manner he put on his shirt, over his head. Naturally, he did not get very far.

"Jackie, try putting yer legs in them holes…" the captain laughed at his son's antics.

"Can't git in…" the boy said.

"Nonsense, I took yer measurements meself," Granny Grace smiled indulgently.

"No get in," Jack stared at the garment, then at his elders. He shook his head and held out the breeches so that his father could have a look at them.

"Mebbe the laddie need a wee bit of privacy…" Granny Grace jested. "Go on, Jackie, try them on, don't need tae be shy about your old gran… or maybe ye want to wear them before the entire crew like yer Uncle Benny did…" Instead, Jack Sparrow continued holding out his breeches to his father.

Teague frowned. Something was not right. He took a closer look at the garment.

"Grace O'Nelly, Ya stitched up the leg holes on this thing!"

There was no way Jack was getting into those breeches the way they were. Honest Tom, a reasonably good tailor before he took to piracy, was summoned to fix the grandmother's mistake.

It was a good two hours later that young Jack was carried triumphantly on his da's shoulders about the deck to show off his new breeches. The bright red colour did not go down too well with the crew. Most of them were chuckling behind their hands but managed to keep it down enough when Teague fixed them with his glare. No one was going to spoil his son's fun on this day.

"Da. Da! Jackie's a big boy now!" Jack whooped with joy and tried to stand on his old da's shoulders. The crew cheered him on.

There was a resounding thud and Teague suddenly felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. The crew fell silent. Then Jack Sparrow started howling from where he had fallen on the deck. The poor captain had accidently walked his son into a low spar.

It was a most inauspicious start to Jack's first step to manhood. However, it did not seem to affect him too badly, Teague mused. If one discounted the fact that Jack had been marooned twice, mutinied upon and eaten by the Kraken.

* * *

><p>"Patience! Get back here! You know you have to wear it at your age!"<p>

Teague looked up from his guitar and groaned. Sometimes he wished his grandchildren would not use his shack as a means of escaping their mother. This time it was the oldest girl, a sassy minx on the verge of becoming a woman. Patience favoured a sleeveless nightgown cut off at the knees for her daily dress, mighty improper wear for a young lady. She sprinted round her grandfather while her mother chased her with a…_ corset_?

"I can't breathe in that thing, mother!"

"But think of your figure! All ladies wear corsets… Father, say something!" an exasperated Willy turned to her father for assistance.

"You're on your own, Willy… jus don't bring me shack down…" Teague murmured with a shrug, grabbed his hat and left for the tavern as mother chased daughter round his shack.

**Author's Notes:**

Willy is Jack's sister Wilhelmina and my own creation. Same for her brood.


	14. Education of a Sparrow

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

How did Jack Sparrow get educated on Teague's ship.

**Education of a Sparrow**

As the son of a school-teacher, Teague had considered himself blessed to be one of the few literate souls on board his ship. His own ma had ensured that her son was fluent in at least three languages and capable of reading and writing. It helped him no end in reading his charts and maps. The pirate captain thanked his departed parents every night for this gift. Now a father himself, it fell upon him to ensure that wee Jackie would be able to read and write and thus be a mariner of quality.

It was a fine day with a fair wind and reasonably calm waters. Most of the crew were making use of this rare good weather to enjoy the sunshine and the salty air.

"A iz fer Anchor, B iz fer Boat, C iz fer Capstan…" Young Jack Sparrow busied himself scratching his letters onto a piece of slate with a stick of chalk. As he did so, he read the letters aloud and matched them to some item.

"D iz fer Da…" Here the young boy paused to give a gap-toothed smile to his father and Captain Teague felt his heart swell with pride. Ah, how proud was he of his son. He looked forward to teaching Jackie to use a quadrant and read charts. To be a seaman of quality, you had to be a good navigator.

"E iz fer Earring and F iz fer F-"

Captain Teague's jaw dropped open as Jack nonchalantly mouthed a cuss-word. The oblivious boy continued scratching his letters on his slate. The irate father turned to his chortling crew.

"Me hearties, now which one of yer scurvy dogs has bin teachin' me laddie to cuss?" he muttered darkly. Everyone turned and looked at their sea cook, Granny Grace, who was heartily cussing and swearing as she rolled a butt of fresh water across the deck to replace the drained scuttlebutt.

* * *

><p>It was official. Teague needed a proper teacher to teach his boy his letters. An English governess would be most helpful, excepting the fact that governesses tended to be young, female and virgin. Teague had no hope of keeping his crew off any piece of skirt (not counting Granny Grace). The last thing he wanted was some hysterical woman on board. A Jesuit priest would only get on everyone's nerves, even though they were a dime a dozen in the Spanish colonies. Teague was sure he would be obliged to make them walk the plank sooner than later with their holier-than-thou airs. Old hoary professors are most tiresome and hard to get at behind their stout university walls. And the shock of meeting a real pirate would probably kill them outright. It was a pleasant surprise when Granny Grace brought a charming young courtesan on board at Marseilles.<p>

The Mademoiselle was a vivacious blond with a ready smile and even readier favours. However, Granny Grace made it clear that she was on board in the capacity of a teacher and the crew should look for their entertainment elsewhere onshore. The crew learnt not to argue with the cook unless one wanted his noggin cracked open like an egg. Mademoiselle did know her letters and it was not long before Jackie was speaking, reading and writing not only in his native tongue, English, but in French and Spanish as well. The Mademoiselle spent a good three years in their company before jumping off their ship and into the waiting arms of a handsome Turkish pirate somewhere off Corsica.

Teague often wondered about his son's governess. There was many a disappointed sailor on his ship that day off Corsica. No doubt she was now grey-haired and plump from providing her Turkish husband with many children, if the Turk had not been hung yet. Jackie's next tutor was a defrocked Jesuit priest who taught him Latin and literature, which Granny Grace decided was waste of good head-space and gave him notice with her fist. One would never expect a preacher to swim that fast for Jamaica after being knocked off the ship by Grace O'Nelly's right hook. Teague hoped the man made landfall safely. He was jolly good company for a former clergyman.

They did get a hoary Dutch professor of science which they took as a hostage after raiding a ship. Their hostage took to seafaring like a fish to water after the university refused to provide the ransom. The old man was a capable surgeon and taught a teenaged Jackie the basics of medicine and some other scientific knowledge. Unfortunately, the old man also put the notion of honest seafaring into Jack Sparrow's head. Captain Teague was obliged to make the Dutchman walk the plank after Jack ran off to join the East India Company. Granny Grace had to track him down in Nantucket and drag him back on board for the plank-walk.

Snapping out of his memories of the past, Teague unpacked the oilskin wrapped tin their carpenter had found under a loose board in the bulkheads. It must have been one of Jackie's hidey-holes on board when he was a child. The first fragile piece of paper bore childish scribbling in English, French and Spanish and a very poor sketch of a pirate captain. _Me Da_. There was a Latin prayer for seafarers Jackie had been obliged to copy by his Jesuit tutor and a chart which made Teague laugh.

* * *

><p>Teaching Jackie navigation was not something he could leave to a landswoman like Mademoiselle. So a bored Jackie boy was reluctantly standing by his father's side as Teague lectured him on soundings, bearings and charting the ship's course. "So the ship's speed is?"<p>

"Seven knots. Due east and we expect to make landfall at Tortuga by dawn if the wind holds," Jack pouted.

"Not quite. Ye see, there are some shoals here we must watch out fer. So we have ta chart a course to the northeast to avoid runnin' aground."

"Those squiggly things are reefs?"

"Aye, Jackie boy and many's the good ship come to grief on them."

At this juncture, their lookout gave a cry and Captain Teague hastened over to the side. It was another pirate ship, a friendly one, the _Albatross_. Captain Peter Blackhart had the colours of truce flapping, having recognised his friend Teague's _Misty Lady_ from a distance. An exchange of greetings was in order. A trade of tobacco for some medicines from the _Misty Lady_ was proposed. And would Teague spare his surgeon for a while? A young sailor had taken a headlong tumble off the mainmast the day before and had been doing poorly since. The _Albatross_' resident surgeon had, most unfortunately, been taken out by chain-shot at the last sea battle.

It took the better part of two hours for crews to exchange greetings and the _Misty Lady's_ surgeon to pronounce the poor patient beyond all human aid. Returning to his ship, Teague sent his surgeon off with a share of tobacco for his pains and passed a pouch to Granny Grace. Remembering his neglected son and their navigation lesson, he returned to the table before his cabin. Jack had tired of waiting and had disappeared below on some game.

With a weary sigh, Teague began to roll up his charts when he saw…

"JACK SPARROW!" The captain's shouts sent shivers up the rigging and shook the lookouts at their posts. Someone had scrawled in black ink a smiley face on Teague's chart, quite ruining it. That someone was no doubt Jack Sparrow. When finally hauled out of his hiding place by his da, Jack would receive ten strokes of the birch to his bottom for his mischief. Defacing navigation charts was a strict no-no in Teague's book.

* * *

><p>"The chart's unusable, Captain," Honest Tom confessed when he saw his captain studying the smiley-face on the chart. They had long replaced that particular chart with a newer one.<p>

"Never mind it, Tom. Just help me pin it up in me cabin for old time's sake," Teague grinned. It would make a welcome addition to his cabin, next to the seascape painting his daughter had given him. Just a teensy reminder of his absent son.

**Author's Notes:**

Jack Sparrow's got quite a chequered education.


	15. Hammock Hangups

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into a hammock without falling smack on your face out the other side? That is for a hammock slung up between 2 trees at the beach. What more of one on the pitching decks of a ship?

**Hammock Hang-ups**

Captain Teague was sitting on the quarterdeck of his ship, strumming his guitar when he was rudely interrupted by a monstrous crash from the ship anchored alongside his. He peered over to see what the ruckus coming from his daughter's flagship was about.

"Apologies, Father! It's only Jean Baptiste trying to get into a hammock on his first try!" his daughter's voice called out. Teague chuckled. Not to be outdone, his young grandson dusted himself off and attempted another try at the hammock. He made a running start across the deck and-

"Man overboard!" one of Jean's sisters shrilled out as the splash reached his ears. Jean had overshot the hammock entirely and pitched over the side.

Teague chuckled. It was always amusing to watch the newcomers figure out a hammock.

* * *

><p>"Ya be a big laddie now, Jackie boy," Granny Grace thumped her grandson on the back. "Ya can sleep with the rest o' us below decks…" she steered an eight-year-old Jack into the crew's quarters with an anxious Teague watching on. Until this day, Jack had been sleeping on a cot bed in his father's cabin. However, Granny Grace declared that it was time to stop mollycoddling wee Jackie and let him take his proper place with the other shipmates. Among the <em>Misty Lady's <em> crew, barring a stint in the surgeon's ward, only Captain Teague had a cabin to himself with a bed in it. Even Honest Tom the first mate slung his hammock with the surgeon and navigator. Granny Grace took the galley as her snoring kept her roommates up all night.

Teague knew he need not worry about Jack Sparrow being bullied by the crew as they were all fond of their little shipmate. Any over-the-top roughhousing would be halted by Granny Grace's fists if needed. Jack's grandmother had a sturdy hammock of her own slung in the narrow confines of the galley, within easy reach of the crew's sleeping quarters. Yet, the father was anxious about his son sleeping away from him.

"Shall I sling his hammock here, ma'am?" Honest Tom asked. Granny Grace nodded her assent and the first mate soon had Jack's small hammock rigged up between Joey Gunner's and his mate Blackie Peters'. They were good-natured and reliable shipmates who would watch out for Jackie.

Jack stared at the hammock in apprehension. He had seen crewmen lounging in them between their shifts. He had a vague memory of being cradled as a toddler in Granny's arms as she swung lazily in one. Now he was looking at his own hammock, which pitched with every roll of the waves.

"Go on, try it fer size," Teague nudged his son. Jack nodded warily and approached the hammock as if it were a live snake. _How did they get into it?_ He glanced at the others for guidance.

Gunner obliged by jumping into his hammock rump-first, timing it exactly with the pitching of the ship so he landed comfortably in the centre of his hammock. Jack nodded and took Gunner's lead. However, he mis-timed the swing and landed on his rump on the wooden deck with a huge thud.

"Ow, that smarts…" Jack blinked away the tears of pain from his eyes. He was a big boy, so says his granny. Big boys did not cry. He rubbed his sore bottom.

"Try holding her like so," Peters suggested. He held the side of his hammock and rolled himself smoothly in. Jack nodded and tried.

Unfortunately, the ship gave a sudden roll and Jack somersaulted over the other side of the hammock and smacked face-first into the bulkhead. This time, the boy howled in pain.

"Perhaps he is too wee," Teague ventured. "School of hard knocks, Captain. Laddie's gotta learn de ropes…" Granny Grace shrugged. "Jackie, he's tough like his ma. He willnae give up so easily." She turned on her heel and returned to her cooking. The crew filed off to their respective duties. The ship would not sail herself. There were sails to be trimmed, ropes hauled. Even Teague himself must take his turn at the helm and chart their course.

* * *

><p>Above decks, Teague could not help but wince at every muffled yelp and thud coming from below. Jack Sparrow was not going to allow himself to be defeated by a piece of sailcloth tied between two posts. The thuds and yelps went quiet. Teague figured his son had either given up or figured out the knack of sleeping in a hammock.<p>

When his watch ended, Teague handed the helm to his mate and went below to check on his son.

"Hullo, da…" Jack, his face bruised, grinned impishly from his hammock. "Could ye please git me outta here?" Somehow Jack Sparrow and managed to get himself hopelessly tangled up in his hammock like a caterpillar in a cocoon. "I got in, didn't I?" Jack protested. "Could ye please git me out, da… Cos I need to go to de head real bad…" he grimaced and twisted his bound-up legs uneasily.

"Pollock! Benny! Git over here and help me hold him steady!" Teague hollered to two passing shipmates. He needed to cut his son free of the hammock. Honest Tom would need to rig up a new one later.

"I wanna be a captain someday, da. So as I have me own bed," his Jackie boy declared solemnly as his da hacked carefully at the ropes and sailcloth holding him prisoner.

It took Jack another full day before he mastered the finer points of getting into a hammock though he never really liked the thing much.

**Author's Notes:**

I could not resist a bit on a cute little Jack Sparrow trying to figure out a hammock.


	16. First Valentine

Disclaimer – Disney owns the entire franchise of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Wee Jackie's first crush, and rejection.

**First Valentine**

Jack Sparrow could not help but grin when he saw that look on the face of the hapless young man as he gazed upon the lovely form of Elizabeth Swann. No doubt the young man felt well out of his depth given the humble bearing he had. Most likely he was a mere apprentice or servant, with no hope of paying court to the lady, who happened to be paired with the new commodore, so he heard. _Poor pup._ Jack Sparrow should know he had been there once.

* * *

><p>"Methinks the laddie is in lurve…" Granny Grace nudged her captain. Edward Teague took a gulp of his rum and glanced across to where his young son was perched on a barrel. Jack Sparrow was staring across the floor of only tavern on Shipwreck. He was looking at a golden-haired girl perched on a bar stool beside another pirate captain. No, not just any other pirate captain but "Goldie" Marquis Rocheforte. The man was a legendary privateer in his youth, a noble of French blood before he turned his back on his king for the lure of piracy. Rocheforte was also the meanest pirate on this side of the Atlantic, even Granny Grace was not going to stick her neck out that far should he take offence to the ten-year-old cabin boy drooling at his precious princess.<p>

The oblivious princess was about Jackie boy's age, with the spun gold hair of her father's. She was dressed in a lacy shirt of finest silk and silver-studded velvet breeches match her father's garments. Her name was Celeste-marie. They had heard the father call out to her earlier. She was a sweet-faced angel with a cupid-bow mouth and her golden tresses tied back with a single velvet bow. No wonder poor Jackie was smitten. The boy shyly ventured forward towards the father and daughter. The girl laughed at some joke her father made. Jackie thought it was pure music, enough to rival the songs of the angels themselves.

Someone called out to Captain Rocheforte. Dropping a kiss on his daughter's curly head, he left the bar to attend to some business outside. No one was suicidal enough to harm the man's daughter when he's within screaming distance. The little princess was perfectly safe and could not be safer had she been cloistered in a fort guarded by a battalion. Mustering up his courage, Jackie haltingly greeted Celeste-marie.

"H-hi…" he gave a weak smile.

"Bon jour…" the girl replied with a radiant smile.

Granny Grace and Captain Teague watched on with growing interest as their young cabin boy made his first clumsy attempt at picking up a girl.

"Rum?" Jack enquired and offered her his own tankard, which he had yet to touch.

"Merci," with a smile, she took the tankard from his hand and took the daintiest of sips. He thought that in that instant, her innocent baby-blue eyes took on a contemptuous cast. It made him shudder involuntarily.

That was all Jack understood before someone seized him by the back of his shirt and hurled him bodily out of the nearest window into a muddy pig sty.

"Stay away from Celeste-marie, dirty rat," the words were delivered in a deathly quiet tone. Captain Rocheforte had returned.

Jack staggered up from the mud. He could make out the pair leaving the tavern. Rocheforte storming out while his girl trotted at his side. She did not even spare her unfortunate suitor a glance. Jack understood even more when he saw her run towards an older boy, throw her arms about his neck and shower him with kisses and terms of endearment under her father's watchful eye. Clearly approving of this particular suitor, the French pirate smiled and gave the youth a warm hug. The trio then strolled off in the direction of their ship.

"Let me kill that fop!" Teague hissed as his cook held him back.

"Not worth yer time, Eddie," Grace shook her head.

"No one throws my Jackie boy outta a window!"

"Boy's gotta learn," Granny Grace replied. "First lessin in dealing with lassies. Trust em not."

"I'm fine, da…" Jackie sniffed and blinked away his tears. He wiped some blood off his brow where he had hit a rock in the sty. Some curious piglets were nuzzling his bare feet and it tickled. He ploughed his way through the sludge and over to his granny and da. "Guess she's outta me depth, eh?" Jack tried to smile but it hurt too much.

"Come on, Jackie boy. Lemme git ye some rum," Teague shrugged.

Jack Sparrow was tough. He would get over it. In fact, the golden-haired angel was soon replaced in his affections by a saucy barmaid in Aruba. Then later a feisty senorita in Spanish convent… Celeste-marie? Rumour had it she went down with her papa's ship when they ran into a British man-of-war outside Portsmouth.

* * *

><p>Jack Sparrow watched on as Elizabeth Swann glanced at the young apprentice. That look was free of any contempt. It was almost overflowing with tenderness. Sensing her eyes on him, Will Turner blushed and hastily glanced away. <em>Go for it, whelp. I'll be rooting for you.<em> Jack Sparrow silently toasted the young couple.

**Author's Notes:**

Things did not work out well for Jackie boy, did they? Actually, it is so much more fun to have our favourite captain single and available.


End file.
